News Presenter: [on TV] Despite John Hume's optimism earlier today, the DUP leader, Ian Paisley, has said that under no circumstances will his party sit at the same table as Sinn Fein, making all party talks impossible.
Mary: I can't take it any more. All these false promises. Waiting week after week, hoping today might be the day, only to be disappointed.
Gerry: Don't upset yourself, love. It's just a wheelie bin.
Mary: It'll change my life, Gerry. And Strabane's had them for months. I mean, what's going on there? Who's pulling the strings for Strabane?

News Presenter: [on TV] SDLP leader John Hume has again called for cross party peace talks...
Sarah: John's really dying for peace, like, isn't he? It's all he ever goes on about. I hope it works out for him.
Mary: Aye, I sort of hope it works out for all of us, Sarah.

Clare: What's she doing now?
James: Reading her book.
[Sister Michael chuckles as she reads The Exorcist]
James: Now she's looking at the woman beside her. Now she's getting up. Now she's coming this way. Now she's standing right in front of us.
Sister Michael: What is he doing?
James: Now she's asking me-
Erin: Stop talking, James.

Sister Michael: I want to sit here.
Michelle: What? Why?
Sister Michael: Well, you're just such wonderful company, girls, what with your stimulating conversation and your razor sharp wit.
Erin: Really?
Sister Michael: No, not really. The woman next to me is eating an egg and onion sandwich and the smell of it is enough to turn an Orange march.

Orla: Their wee beekeeper costumes are so cracker.

Gerry: Why does Jim across the road have a tranquilizer gun?
Sarah: His brother had an awful lot of bother with devil worshippers.
Gerry: Excuse me?
Sarah: Aye, they sent up camp on his farm and he couldn't shift them for love nor money, so Jim bought a couple of guns and just...
Gerry: What? Shot them?
Sarah: Aye. I think it worked, you know?
Gerry: I imagine it would, yeah.
Mary: I'm not convinced they were devil worshippers, you know?
Sarah: Sure their hair had never seen a brush and they were head to toe in tie dye, Mary.

Clare: A history project! This web of lies we're spinning is getting out of control now, girls.
Michelle: It's grand, Clare. I think she bought it.
Clare: Of course she didn't buy it. She's onto us. I'm telling you. My God, I'm sweltered here.
Erin: Then take it off.
Clare: I can't take it off. I've nothing underneath it.
Erin: What, not even a bra?
Michelle: Jesus, Clare! You've no bra on?
Clare: Of course I've got a bra on.
Orla: I haven't got a bra on.
James: Can everyone please stop saying "bra."
Clare: But I can hardly parade about in just my bra. I'm not Madonna.
Michelle: Isn't that the truth.

Michelle: Nobody's going to recognise you, Clare.
Sister Michael: Clare Devlin? Is that you?
Clare: Jesus Christ.
Erin: Relax, Clare. It's the weekend. She has no authority over us at the weekend. She has no right to question us, and, if she tries to, I'll tell her as much.
Sister Michael: Morning, girls.
All: Morning, Sister Michael.
Sister Michael: What takes you to Belfast?
Erin: [quietly] I'm not really sure that's...
Sister Michael: Speak up.
Erin: I'm not really sure that's any of your business.
Sister Michael: I'm going to assume that was an ill-judged attempt at humour, Miss Quinn.
Erin: Yes.

Jonjo: How'ya, girls.
Michelle: Well, hello, there.
Erin: Hi.
Clare: Good afternoon, Sir.
Michelle: "Sir?" What the fuck, Clare?

James: Who are they?
Erin: They're just people, James. They're just people that are exactly like us.
Orla: Except different.
Erin: Yes. No!
Clare: That's actually racist, Orla.
Michelle: No, it's not. They are different.
Erin: They're not.
Michelle: Well, they live in caravans, for a start.
Orla: I wish I lived in a caravan.
Michelle: Ah, me too. Caravans are class.