Rory: Okay, what about this? "Where is the chair you sit in? Where is your favorite comb, your toothbrush, your nail file? Trot them out, that I may devour them at one gulp."
Lane: You want to eat his toothbrush?
Rory: No, I'm trying to convey that I miss him very much.
Lane: Sounds like you miss his toiletry kit.
Rory: It's supposed to be metaphorical and evocative. It's Henry Miller.
Lane: Henry Miller has better stuff than that. Believe me, that is not why they banned his books.
Rory: Well, I'm not gonna write, "Our hands groped frantically for the burning flesh."
Lane: Oh, that's better. That's way hotter than the eating-his-comb thing.

Lane: Why are you making such a big deal out of this?
Rory: I'm just worried, you know? I mean, we talk to each other on the phone every day, but I just don't think that that's enough to keep this relationship going. I guess I never realized how important the other stuff was.
Lane: The sex stuff?
Rory: And the holding-hands and the falling-asleep-next-to-each-other stuff. I mean, that's where the crazy intimacy comes from, and without those options, when they're just taken away from you 'cause someone moves to London... Desperate measures.
Lane: Burn that flesh, sister.
Rory: Okay. Here it goes. I think I'm gonna puke.
Lane: Join me. That's all I'll be doing for the next two months.

Rory: I just don't understand why you're going to this cotillion. Does Michel have compromising photographs of you, that I don't know about, like some snapshots from your perm year?
Lorelai: No, but he does have Post-its. Word to the wise, don't ever put anything in writing, 'cause even when it's on florescent sticky paper, it's still binding.
Rory: You are so wise and awesome and generous.

Michel: It's like you don't even care.
Lorelai: I care about you, just not this.
Michel: After all the trouble I went through picking out the perfect flower for you.
Lorelai: It's kind of big, don't you think? It's like wearing a tree on my arm.
Michel: It is an orchid.
Lorelai: It's scratchy.
Michel: Could have got me something, a simple boutonniere. But no. I'm so humiliated.

Lorelai: Who is that?
Emily: I told you. It's the Courtwrights' granddaughter, Charlotte.
Lorelai: Why is she taking our coats and pouring us drinks? Did you win her in a poker game?

Emily: Charlotte, you might have noticed that the ice cubes in my glass have already melted. There's a whole ice bucket up there. There's no need to be so stingy.
Charlotte: I'm sorry.
Emily: For future reference. It's obvious too late now.
Lorelai: This is your chance to get out while you still can. I can show you all the good escape routes.
Charlotte: [chuckles] Mrs. Gilmore warned me you'd be full of smart remarks.

Rory: [on the phone] What happened yesterday?
Logan: My yesterday or your yesterday?
Rory: Either one.
Logan: Let's see I had a scone for breakfast -- not as dry as Monday's, but I still think there's room for improvement. And then I went into a meeting with about 18 different department heads, all of whom I believe are named Nigel, and that meeting lasted for about nine hours.
Rory: Was it a cranberry scone?
Logan: Blueberry.
Rory: Those are my favorite kind.

Rory: Are you enjoying your breakfast?
Lorelai: I don't know if I like Pop-Tarts.
Rory: Did you fall on your head while you were sleeping?
Lorelai: I don't know. Do I like this? Is this something I like?
Rory: So, you fell on your head, and now you have some kind of very specific amnesia. Is that it?

Babette: I have it. It's the curtains!
Luke: Yeah, those curtains have always been here.
Babette: I know. I'm just saying you used to have more curtains.
Luke: No, I never had more curtains.

Rory: Zach and the pregnancy.
Lane: Oh. That. I haven't told him yet.
Rory: Really?
Lane: Yeah, I was, but now I'm thinking I'm gonna wait.
Rory: Okay. For how long?
Lane: I don't know. A couple years?
Rory: Lane!
Lane: I'm gonna tell him eventually, just not yet. Besides, a lot of people wait a full 12 weeks before they tell anyone they're pregnant.
Rory: Not the husband.