Sam: Look, you made a mistake, that's all. Now make up for it. Go find the poor guy, bring him back and apologize.
Diane: Well, that's a wonderful idea, but I wouldn't know where to begin to look for him?
Cliff: Well, I think your British Embassy could probably help you there. Yeah, I've got a pretty good ear for dialects. And my instincts tell me, limey.

Sam: You know, it's not often we have a guy in here who can write poetry.
Coach: We got a guy in the men's room, Sam, writes some terrific stuff.

Diane: Are you published?
Eric Finch: No, no. I don't even send my stuff in. I'm not really very good.
Diane: Oh, don't be silly. Let me be the judge of that. I majored in poetry.
Jack: I thought you majored in philosophy.
Diane: No, it was psychology, but that was before Literature and after French.
Sam: No, no, no. That was after Art History.
Norm: And before Anthropology.
Cliff: Oh, no, no, no. We're forgetting Indian Studies. And Manchurian Folk Dancing.

Diane: Excuse me, we are about to make literary history here.
Eric Finch: [on the phone] Hello. "My heart is like a singing bird Whose nest is in the watered shoot;"
Diane: Now, that's a poet.
Sam: Thank you.
Eric Finch: "My heart is like an apple tree Whose bough is bent with thick-set fruit" [Coach joins in] "My heart is like a rainbow shell That paddles on a halcyon sea"
Coach: "My heart is gladder than all these things Because my love has come to me." The nuns taught us that in school. I get tears just remembering.
Carla: No fooling. Tears?
Coach: Yeah. They whacked us with their beads.

Diane: [takes the phone] Yes, Rossetti, you're right. Thank you for settling that bet. Wonderful. Now, to whom could I speak about a subscription. l? [hangs up]
Carla: I don't believe this guy. I mean, you cannot believe a word that comes out of his mouth. You know, if you could fix TVs and crack walnuts on your forehead, you could be my ex-husband.

Eric Finch: I hope you won't think me presumptuous, but dark, exotic women like you bring a fever to my blood.
Carla: Wow! Classy! My name is Carla. What can I get ya?
Eric Finch: How do you do, Carla? [kisses her wrist] My name's Eric Finch. Gin and bitters will do. You know, you have an interesting profile. Neapolitan, right?
Carla: That's right. My grandfather was from Naples.
Eric Finch: Well, we have a saying in my business, "Giving your heart to a Neapolitan girl is like forgetting to burn your code book." Oops. Blast. Now I've bloody well done it.
Carla: You're not a spy or anything, are you?
Eric Finch: Ssh. Please, don't say anything more. You might put my life in jeopardy. [as Coach walks by] You see that man, there?
Carla: Yeah.
Eric Finch: He might be the secret agent from a foreign country's intelligence.
Carla: I'd hate to live there.

Carla: Hey, if you're in the mood for gum, I can get you a fresh stick.
Eric Finch: Actually, I was looking for bugs.
Carla: Try the blonde girl's hair. Say, you're from England, huh?
Eric Finch: How'd you guess?
Carla: Well, because you sound smart even when you say stupid things.

Carla: Sam, a gin and bitters. Hey, everybody, come here. Don't everybody look suddenly, but there's a guy over there who's a secret agent.
Diane: Oh, that's ridiculous.
Carla: [as everyone looks] Oh, thanks for being so cool.
Norm: You mean like a spy or something?
Coach: You mean like James Bond?
Cliff: Hey, Norm, Jack, it's stakeout time.

Sam: What makes you think that?
Carla: Well, he kinda opened up to me. I was sitting there talking to him and he said he thinks I'm sexy.
Diane: They're trained to lie.
Carla: You know, Diane, he just got back from Ankara and he says that I'm cuter than any of the Bulgarian girls he saw there.
Diane: Well, I'm not surprised, Ankara is in Turkey.
Carla: Great. I really wanted to know that. Another fascinating fact from the answer geek.

Diane: What's the matter with her?
Sam: Why are you always doing that? You're always correcting people.
Diane: No, I'm not.
Sam: Oh, I stand corrected.
Diane: Oh, come on, that doesn't count.
Sam: I'm wrong again, Coach.
Diane: All I said was that he doesn't sound like he knows what he's talking about. Who in the world would make the mistake of thinking Ankara's in Bulgaria?
Coach: Well, Francis wouldn't.