Norm: Cliffy, uh, thanks a lot, but l- l'm just not interested. You know, I guess I'm an example of the old adage, "l'd never join a club that would have someone like you as a member," you know?

Cliff: Oh, boy. Hey, you're gonna love it down at the lodge, you know. After a hard day's work, it's a great place to unwind.
Woody: Yeah, wearing those turbans, you probably need a place to unwind. You know, unwind. [laughs] Turbans? How they're all wound up around your head and you gotta unwind 'em?
Cliff: Hey, uh good one, Woody.
Woody: I was voted class clown.
Norm: You should be proud.
Woody: Yeah, I was only running for class president.

Sam: Can I ask you a question here, Carla?
Carla: Mm-hmm.
Sam: Who's the handsomest man you know?
Carla: Robert Redford.
Sam: No, no, he's a movie star. I mean someone you really know.
Carla: Robert Redford.
Sam: You don't know Robert Redford.
Carla: Yes, I do.
Sam: How come you never mentioned it?
Carla: If you were the only woman in Boston he was messing around with, would you tell anybody?

High Sultan: Stand up, Norm Peterson, and be welcomed. Norm, uh, Norm, why don't you tell us a little bit about yourself, huh?
Norm: Well, there's really nothing to say, guys.
High Sultan: Now don't be modest.
Norm: No, I mean it. There's really nothing to say. Uh... Let's see, I was born in Chicago, uh I moved to Boston and became an accountant.
High Sultan: Are you married?
Norm: Yeah.
High Sultan: To?
Norm: Long.

Norm: Oh, I'll tell you, I thought this was going to be really stupid, but these are a good bunch of guys, I tell you.
Cliff: Yep. Well, have I ever steered you wrong, Norm?
Norm: Oh, yeah; that's why I thought it was going to be stupid. But, uh, you know, it's too bad about the business stuff, but I- I feel pretty comfortable with these guys.
Cliff: Yeah.
Norm: Really, thank you for sponsoring me, buddy. Mm-hmm. I can't wait for some of these parties. Bang, zoom, eh?
High Sultan: Oh, uh, before I forget, the, uh, referendum that we ban beer at all lodge functions has been passed.
Norm: Good-bye!

Cliff: If it isn't Walter Q. Twitchell, the man who put the "nie" in weenie.
Walt Twitchell: You South Central Branch types are all alike: wisenheimers. Good Lord, Miss Agnes! You're wearing your postal keychain and you're not on active duty?
Cliff: Well...
Walt Twitchell: That's a direct violation of postal regulations. I'm filing a report on you.
Cliff: Oh, yeah?
Walt Twitchell: Yeah.
Cliff: I'd love to see the supervisor's face when he calls me out on the mat and I whip out this little baby. Heh? Care to take a peep at the old French peeper here, Twitch? I warn ya, it's, uh, pretty hot stuff.
Walt Twitchell: [holds it up to his eye] You're a sick man, Clavin. [all laughing] What are you?
Cliff: Oh, nice shiner there, Twitch. Yeah, they could never pass up a chance to sneak a peek at Natalie in her nightie.
Walt Twitchell: Nightie?! Wasn't wearing anything I could see.
Cliff: Huh? [holds it up to his eye]
Walt Twitchell: Revenge is sweet. Here's your mail.

Lance Apollonaire: Is she gonna be all right?
Sam: Yeah, of course she's gonna be all right. Are you all right? You okay?
Carla: Yeah, yeah, I'm-l'm fine. I just had this dream that I saw the handsomest man.
[Carla gasps as she sees Lance again. She falls back straight onto the floor with a thud.]
Sam: Would you stop that, please?
Carla: Oh, nice going, Sam. I was hoping he'd give me mouth-to-mouth. You still can, you know.

Diane: As you know, last week, I was substituting as a teaching assistant at the college and it seems that one of the students has fallen in love with me.
Sam: Marry him.
Diane: See! Sam, in this case, the smitten youth is particularly good-looking.
Sam: Ah.
Diane: No, make that exceptionally good-looking.
Sam: All right.
Diane: No, make it Greek-god-like.

Diane: Sam, please. As you know, I'm one who prides herself on her attraction to the inner man, but every once in awhile, someone comes along that makes you go, "zowie."
Sam: Oh, stop it, will ya? You're just trying to make me jealous.
Diane: Your being jealous was the farthest thing from my mind although, now that you bring it up, any sane man would be jealous of Lance Apollonaire.
Sam: Oh, come on. If you're gonna make a guy up, at least give him a name that doesn't sound like a bad aftershave.
Diane: I knew it was a mistake to talk to you. I'll just have to deal with this on my own. Rest assured, though, that the last thing I need is to become that young man's "Mrs. Robinson."
Woody: Wouldn't that be Mrs. Apollonaire?
Diane: No, Woody. Mrs. Robinson was a... Yes, it would.

Cliff: You know, uh, Dad himself was a Knight. When I was a kid, I used to sneak up into his room when he was out at work and, uh, try on his turban and sword.
Carla: And unless I miss my guess, you completed the outfit with your mother's bra and high heels.
Cliff: Carla, this is serious. It's no easy task getting into the Knights. Oh, sure, as the son of an alumnus, I was, uh, guaranteed full membership, but, uh, well, hey, my oath does not permit me to say any more.
Carla: Thank God.
Cliff: Yeah. But the best part is...
Carla: Your oath, Clavin, your oath.
Cliff: No, no, this stuff's permissible, Carla.
Carla: Oh, shut up, anyway.