Cliff: All right, here's a little-known fact. The smartest animal...
Norm: Yeah?
Cliff: ...is the pig.
Norm: What? They look pretty stupid.
Cliff: Yeah, your average oinker. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Scientists say if a pig had thumbs and a language, he could be trained to do manual labor.
Norm: You mean they'd be part of the workforce?
Cliff: Yeah, yeah. They'd give you 30 years of loyal service, then at the retirement dinner, you could eat 'em.

Diane: You bellowed?
Sam: Yeah. Yeah, I did. What are you trying to do?
Diane: I don't believe that guy's a spy for one minute. I think he's lying.
Sam: What? A customer in a bar is telling tall tales just to impress a waitress? Call 60 Minutes.
Diane: All right, when you put it that way. The thing is...
Sam: Look. Look, listen, why do you suppose people come to bars in the first place?
Diane: Oh, let me take a wild stab at that one. Perchance to drink?
Sam: Wrong. Wrong. They could do that at home. They come here to shoot off their mouths and get away with it. Listen, in this bar everybody gets to be a hero. Now, what's the harm?

Diane: This is a night I will never forget. It so happens that I am on speaking terms with one of the poetry editors at The Atlantic Monthly. Yes, he spoke at my college once. I'm going to call him and tell him about you.
Sam: Wait. Hey, aren't you getting a little carried away here?
Diane: May I have the phone? Yes, and loving it.
Sam: Humoring the guy is one thing. I mean, he can have all the fantasies he wants in my bar. But don't you think you're going too far to make him feel good.
Diane: Sam, the poem he wrote is excellent. Scratch a liar, find a poet.
Sam: So he memorized one. What's that prove?
Diane: Sam, we are now in my area of expertise. When we want to talk about poetry, we come to me. When we want to talk about jock itch, we come to you.

Norm: [enters] Evening, everybody.
All: Norm!
Diane: Norman.
Sam: What's new, Norm?
Norm: Most of my wife.

Coach: Norm, I thought you were going out to Maine for the holidays with Vera?
Norm: Yeah, I am, Coach.
Coach: Well, what happened?
Norm: Nothing. Nothing. Vera drove up last night and I had to stick around for an interview. I'm gonna drive up tonight. She left me the directions here. [pulls out a piece of paper] Should have no trouble finding the place.
Diane: Getting away, Norman?
Norm: Yeah. We got just the two of us. Oh, there's big trees up there, you know. They got a frozen lake, one radio station.
Diane: It sounds very romantic, Norman.
Norm: Yeah, it does, doesn't it?
Sailor: [to Sam] Where can a guy go for a good time around here?
Norm: Enjoy. [hands over paper] No, wait, pal, I can't. I can't do that to the navy.

Cliff: Hey, Coach, who do you say is the smartest animal?
Coach: I gotta say Francis the Talking Mule.
Cliff: No, Coach, I don't think you're catching on here. That was a real guy talking for that mule.
Sam: Uh, well, it wasn't so much that he could talk, it was what he said, right, Coach?
Coach: Yeah, right, and it was a lot better than that drivel Mister Ed was giving us.
Cliff: Good point.

Eric Finch: Your eyes remind me of an etching I bought in Norway. I paid 200 guilders for it.
Diane: The currency in Norway is the Krone.
Sam: Oh, Diane.
Carla: If you have a licence to kill, can I use it a second?
Eric Finch: She's right.
Carla: She is?
Eric Finch: Of course. That how we broke down Norway's economic system by infiltrating the government with foreign currency.
Diane: Hmm. Is that right?
Sam: Oh, Diane.
Eric Finch: That way we undermined the people's confidence and their totalitarian regime.
Carla: Ah-ha!
Diane: Norway doesn't have a totalitarian regime. Ah-ha!
Sam: [whistles] Hey! Get it over here!
Diane: Pardonnez-moi. I believe my employer craves a word.

Diane: Sam, any kind of lie is eventually destructive. I was raised and educated to prize truth above all else.
Carla: This from a woman wearing rubber eyelashes and a padded bra.
Diane: That's a lie.
Sam: I'm gonna need some proof.

Diane: I failed. I blew it. I quit. I don't belong in a place like this, and there's no point arguing about it.
Carla: Who's arguing?
Diane: I am opinionated, I am stubborn, I am smug.
Carla: A little louder, they can't hear you in the back room.
Diane: I wouldn't have believed it, but I'm a total washout as a cocktail waitress. I don't belong here.
Carla: Stay in touch, kid.
Sam: Carla.

Coach: Diane. Diane, please, listen. I don't know exactly what's going on here, but it looks like you booted a grounder, right?
Diane: [Sam nods] Right.
Coach: Right. Well, you know what I used to say to one of my ballplayers when he made a mental error?
Diane: What?
Coach: Nothing. That's why I got fired.