Lorelai: Mom, come on. You were gonna be invited over. I just wanted to make sure everything was done and ready and that I could have you over when I could spend the maximum amount of time showing you around. [whispers to Luke as she opens the door] My parents are here. [Luke turns around and leaves] I was hoping to have a nice little catered affair, you know, with guys in black coats carrying trays. 'Cause I know how much you love guys in black coats carrying trays.
Emily: Who was at the door?
Lorelai: Oh, it was Ed McMahon. He's always showing up with these big cardboard checks. They are impossible to endorse, by the way.
Emily: I am never not sorry that I ask these questions.

Paris: I mean, who are we kidding? I am not cut out to deal with people. I was made to be in a lab or an operating room or a bunker somewhere with a well-behaved monkey by my side. I'm sorry, too, you know, for throwing you out.
Rory: Consider it even.

Paris: Well, well, if it isn't New Haven's favorite whore hound.
Logan: Is Rory here?
Paris: Yes.
Logan: Can I talk to her?
Paris: No. But you can talk to me. [opens door] What do you wanna talk about? Life? Love? Common symptoms of sexually transmitted diseases?
Logan: Rory?
Paris: Rashes, sores, insanity.

Luke: You know, I looked up the route last night. Sounds like a great trip. They'll be visiting Constitution Hall and stopping in Gettysburg. Do you know I have never seen the Liberty Bell?
Lorelai: Communist.
Luke: Okay, I'm gonna take these guys outside. Any particular place you want them?
Lorelai: Yeah, someplace shady, sheltered from the elements and ideally near a talking pig.
Luke: I asked. I have no one to blame but myself.

Michel: I see you're making liberal use of my pink neon Post-it notes.
Rory: I'm sorry, Michel. Would you like me to reimburse you for the seven pink neon Post-it notes that I have used? 'Cause I'd be happy to if you can break a penny.
Michel: No, little Lorelai, it's not the cost that is the problem, it's the disruption.
Rory: Disruption?
Michel: Of the system.
Rory: I see.
Michel: Do you?
Rory: No.
Michel: The pink neon Post-it notes I use for guests who are checking in. The green neon Post-it notes are for guests checking out. And the watermelon Post-it notes are for guests who have altered or canceled their reservations. As you can see, the pink neon stack is now woefully out of balance with the green neon stack, creating the illusion that more guests have been checking in than checking out, which, of course, is a physical impossibility unless we have begun murdering them.

Kirk: [into headset] Look, Mrs. Kingston, Kirk will not rest until you are satisfied. Your demands are Kirk's demands. Your needs are Kirk's needs. Kirk is here for you.
Lorelai: Uh, Kirk?
Kirk: [into headset] Kirk appreciates that, Mrs. Kingston. We'll talk soon.
Lorelai: What are you doing here?
Kirk: Trying to bag a whale. Kirk's in the real estate game now.
Lorelai: Stop doing that.
Kirk: What?
Lorelai: Referring to yourself as Kirk.
Kirk: But that's Kirk's thing. Every realtor needs a thing. This is Kirk's thing.

Rory: I am getting three hot dogs tonight, and I'll tell you why. I have Bugsy Malone running through my head, especially the scene where Scott Baio buys Florrie Dugger a hot dog, and he offers her mustard with onions or ketchup without. So I started thinking, what would I like? Mustard with onions or ketchup without? And then suddenly, they both started to sound really good. But I usually get my hot dogs with ketchup and relish, and you don't just walk out on something that has served you so well for so long, so three hot dogs it is. So what do you think happened to Florrie Dugger, anyway?
Lorelai: Oh, she moved to Stars Hollow, and her mother harped on her hairstyle so much she jumped off a bridge.

Lorelai: I don't know what to do. I moved 30 miles away from my parents for a reason. Those 30 miles act as a buffer, so that when my mother says something that makes me want to kill her, I have to drive 30 miles to do it. Ten miles in, I usually calm down or I get hungry or I pass a mall. Something prevents me from actually killing her. That buffer is my mother's best friend. Take the buffer away, and you got Nancy Grace camping out at Miss Patty's lawn for a month.

Logan: And why the hell am I arguing with you? I don't want you back.
Paris: You, Logan Huntzberger, are nothing but a two-bit, spoiled, waste of a trust fund. You offer nothing to women or the world in general. If you were to disappear from the face of the earth tomorrow, the only person that would miss you is your Porsche dealer.
Logan: You wanna chime in here?
Rory: No, I think Paris has got it covered.

Rory: So I cleared out all the magazines, newspapers and most of the books. And I hid away all the throw pillows and blankets, and I lowered the heat to 55 to ensure minimal post-meal lingering.
Lorelai: Yale-educated.
Rory: I'll go do one final walk-through.