Lorelai: I don't want the whole night to be about Luke.
Rory: It won't be. Don't worry. Just put it out there, and then when they attack you, whatever angle they're coming from, I will deflect.
Lorelai: How will you deflect?
Rory: Well, I don't know. Maybe I will talk about Bangalore.
Lorelai: You know a lot about Bangalore?
Rory: Don't you? Bangalore? Outsourcing? You know, when you call customer service, you're almost always talking to some nice dude in India who speaks perfect English. Don't you read Time magazine?
Lorelai: It doesn't seem like a rich subject area.

Lorelai: Then they didn't react. Not one bit. It's almost like the absence of their reaction was worse than any freak-out they could have had.
Rory: Okay. Sure.
Lorelai: Then I thought, "Why? Why do I care if they freak out? I mean, what do I get out of it?" And then I thought, "Maybe their freak-outs are like some kind of compass for me, you know, like, I know I'm doing what I want to do if it freaks them out." And then I thought, "What if I don't want to do what I want to do because I want to do it, but because they don't want me to?"
Rory: Huh?
Lorelai: I mean, what if I don't like what I like because I like it, but because my mother doesn't like it and doesn't want me to like it? What if I don't actually like the music that I like or the movies or the clothes or the men? What if I don't like what I seem to like?
Rory: Ah, hence the Pop-Tart.

Michel: You owe me.
Lorelai: What? I do not.
Michel: Oh, yes, you do. Last November, when you were going out of town and nervous about boarding Paul Anka for the first time, you forced me, against my better judgment, to have Paul Anka over to my home for the day so he could acclimate to other dogs. Well, not only did he traumatize my poor chows, but somehow he managed to get into my closet, the door of which was firmly closed.
Lorelai: I know. I don't know how he does that.
Michel: ...and proceeded to poop in my Prada loafers.
Lorelai: Well, he knows good quality.
Michel: When I returned your foul creature and told you about what happened, you apologized profusely and then wrote an I.O.U. on several little Post-its, thinking it was all so clever.
Lorelai: Gosh, I don't remember that.
Michel: I thought as much.

Lane: Did you notice no one ever gives details when they tell you about childbirth? It's because the details are gross and scary and unacceptable.
Rory: Like what?
Lane: Well, apparently, in about three months, I can look forward to dark spots on my face because it's not enough to just get fat.
Rory: It's not fat. It's a baby.
Lane: A baby that will shoot out of my body despite the fact that it's obviously much too large. I didn't think this through when we were dating. I was all into the fact that Zach was big and manly, which means I'm gonna have a big, manly baby, and I'm a small woman.
Rory: I never thought of Zach as big and manly.
Lane: Compared to Henry Lee? Remember when my mom wanted me to date Henry Lee? He was like yea high. I would have had tiny, little, yea-high babies.
Rory: Yeah, but he was your second cousin. I think you would have had other problems with those babies.
Lane: Whatever. I'm not doing it. This baby is just gonna have to find another way out or stay in there forever. I really don't care.

Rory: Hey, you're gonna wow them at your cotillion.
Charlotte: Did you ever attend a cotillion?
Rory: No, I haven't, actually, but I had a coming-out party.
Lorelai: And I totally supported her decision. She shouldn't have to hide her love for women.
Emily: Lorelai, there's nothing funny about being a lesbian.

Lorelai: Yes. Hence. I can remember the first time I had a Pop-Tart. It was at my friend Erica Catcha's house, and she said, "Do you want a Pop-Tart?" And I knew my mother would recoil at the very idea of me having a Pop-Tart. I could just picture her. "A Pop-Tart?!" And so, I had one. And I opened the little silver wrapper, and I took a bite, and I thought nothing had ever tasted so good. I thought it tasted like freedom. It tasted like I was my own person. The Pop-Tart tasted like freedom and rebellion and independence.
Rory: Wow. That's some Pop-Tart. What flavor was that?
Lorelai: But now I think I don't know if I like Pop-Tarts. What if I don't like Pop-Tarts? Would I like Pop-Tarts if Richard and Emily had served me Pop-Tarts on a silver platter and demanded I eat every bite? I don't know.
Rory: Hey, where are all the Pop-Tarts?
Lorelai: I've been experimenting.
Rory: You ate all the Pop-Tarts?
Lorelai: If it makes you feel any better, I don't know if I like them!

Emily: Is that peanut butter and jelly?
Sookie: Yes. I just thought since the girls were only 10 that they'd enjoy it more than the smoked-salmon sandwiches.
Emily: They're 10. They're not animals. This is a proper tea, Sookie. I'm not interested in circus food.

Lorelai: Hey, punch me in the stomach.
Rory: What?
Lorelai: Real quick. Jab, jab. Not too hard. Just enough to cause a little internal bleeding.
Rory: That sounds pretty hard.
Lorelai: Yeah, true. Plus, internal bleeding is internal, which means it can't be proven. And unless my mother sees blood, there's no way she's gonna let you take me to the hospital. You're right. You're gonna have to punch me in the face. Real quick, jab, jab.
Rory: I am not going to punch you in the face.
Lorelai: Why? I'll heal. And I'd much rather spend the night in the germy emergency room getting 8 to 10 stitches than go in there for dinner. Plus, it'll give me a really groovy scar. I've always wanted a groovy scar.
Rory: Mom.
Lorelai: What? It'd be such a great conversation piece. "Where did you get that groovy scar?" "Oh, my daughter dropkicked me for no apparent reason." She's totally psycho.

Rory: Doesn't your mom already kind of know because of the house debacle?
Lorelai: No, she suspects, but she doesn't know know. I'm gonna have to tell them.
Rory: Well, just tell them real quick, like ripping a band-aid off.
Lorelai: Like ripping a band-aid off that's been superglued, stapled, and surgically embedded in my arm.
Rory: Just tell them, and then we can move on. We can talk about more pleasant things, like the Middle East.
Lorelai: I don't know how they're gonna come at me, you know. I know they're gonna come at me, but I don't know how. I mean, it could be guilt, pity, anger, contempt. They have so many options.
Rory: Well, in all likelihood, it will be a combination of all of those.

Lorelai: Oh, I know. You tell them you're converting to Judaism, and that will throw the Friday-night-dinner thing in jeopardy.