Dick: I can't believe the arbitrary way that humans decide which animals to revere and which to eat. It's nothing more than a barbaric popularity contest. Take the koala bear: cute and cuddly. Have you ever heard of a koala burger? A koala dog? Koala falafel? No! The noble cow, whose only sins are her pendulous teets and redundant stomachs, is doomed to be sawed into freezer-friendly chunks and sold by the pound to the bloodthirsty masses.

Tommy: I don't understand her.
Sally: What's to understand? Kill her and get a new one.
Harry: No, no, no, no, no, you can't do that, see? You gotta get a new one and then you kill her. It's like the book says, "Be prepared."
Sally: The Official Boy Scout Guide Book. Who are the Boy Scouts?
Harry: They're an elite pre-pubescent, paramilitary society. And I'm gonna follow their ways.
Sally: But, Harry, you're neither elite, nor pre-pubescent.
Harry: All in good time, Sally. All in good time.

Tommy: Nina, I need a woman's point of view for something. Um, my girlfriend's not speaking to me because I didn't ask her to a dance.
Nina: Mmm, send her flowers.
Tommy: She once told me that flowers reminded her of the morbid stench of death.
Nina: Okay. Well, how about a gift? Maybe a nice makeup kit.
Tommy: Uh, she sees makeup as a way for the arrogant misogynists to decorate the women they own and turn them into you know, like vacuous playthings.
Nina: Oh, I bet you two have a lot of fun.
Tommy: Wait, that's all you've got?
Nina: What do I look like, "Dear Sandy"?
Tommy: Who's "Dear Sandy"?
Nina: The advice lady from the paper. You know, like, "Dear Sandy, I'm a whiny little teenager with girlfriend problems and the only person I can bug about it is my dad's stunning Nubian secretary."
Tommy: Yeah, yeah, yeah, could you write that down for me?
Nina: Sure, you mean the stunning Nubian part?

Dick: No, I have to face it. I'm nothing more than a death machine.
Mary: Well, you're also a life machine. You created a life... Tommy.
Dick: Oh, I had nothing to do with that.
Mary: Come on, you had a little something to do with it. If it weren't for you, he wouldn't be here.
Dick: Well, that's true, I did bring him. Uh... into this world, I mean.
Mary: See, life has a way of balancing things out.
Dick: You're right, Mary. We're part of a great cycle. "There's a time to live, a time to die, a time to sow, a time to reap..." a time to reupholster and a time to keep the furnishings you have and just brighten them up with a few throw pillows.
Mary: Something like that.

Dick: Object A, a 2,358-pound Rambler American from 1964, traveling at 45 miles per hour collides with object B, a tiny chipmunk weighing a mere eight ounces. Now, who can calculate the psychological toll this bloody collision will take on the driver?
Caryn: Dr. Solomon, you hit a chipmunk?
Dick: [whimpers] Yes.

Harry: Whoa, what are you doing?
Sally: It's these ants, they're everywhere.
Harry: Well, you can't kill 'em, I'm breeding 'em.
Sally: Oh, that makes sense.
Harry: I'm going for my merit badge in insect husbandry.
Sally: So you've turned my kitchen into an ant farm?
Harry: No, the ant farm is under your bed. The kitchen is more of a lounge area.

Mary: Dick's a little shaken up.
Sally: What the heck happened now?
Tommy: Yeah, so?
Dick: Oh, I was driving along, radio blasting, wind rushing through my gorgeous hair, when suddenly, out of nowhere... [screams] Oh! [sobs]
Sally: What?
Mary: He hit a chipmunk.
Sally: A chipmunk? What, like one of those little Disney rats?
Dick: Oh, and we rushed him to the finest veterinarian in all of Rutherford, but it's touch and go. And these damn doctors won't tell me what's really going on. Oh, poor Chippy.

Tommy: This dance thing is nuts. It's like the NFL draft. August took her offer off the table, so now I'm a free agent. And if I can't convince her to sign me back, I'm gonna get drafted by the Rutherford Uglies.

Dick: Lieutenant! Lieutenant, you are forbidden to harm one single ant. Now, that's a direct order.
Sally: I'm sorry, was I asleep when you turned into a big wussie?
Dick: No, this has nothing to do with me being a wussie. Chippy has opened my eyes. As of today, this apartment is a cruelty-free zone. Lieutenant, I order you to rid this house of any items made at the expense of our four-legged brethren. We shall have no animal products, no animal by-products and you shall not buy any animal by-product, or products. Have I made myself clear?
Sally: Uh-huh.

Dick: Oh, Mary, I think you'd better sit down.
Mary: What is it?
Dick: Chippy made it through the night, but the doctors say when he comes out of the coma, he may only have 20 to 30% of his tree-climbing ability.
Mary: You know, it would help if you stop thinking about it.
Nina: And stop talking about it.
Dick: But it's my fault.
Mary: What-- Come on, Dick, this has been going on forever. First, man invented the wheel and then he invented road kill. You did all you could. I mean, most people wouldn't have even slowed down, much less stop to perform mouth to mouth.