Lorelai: There goes the fire chief, the police chief and the one paramedic with a valid license. I feel safe. Don't you?
Luke: Look at them. All relatively intelligent men but there they are, dressed up in costumes standing out in a snowstorm, and for what?
Lorelai: Because it's tradition.
Luke: Tradition is a trap that allows people to stick their head in the sand. Everything in the past was so quaint, so charming. Times were simpler. Kids didn't have sex. Neighbors knew each other. It's a freaking fairy tale. Things sucked then, too. It just sucked without indoor plumbing.

Lorelai: Would you like some coffee? How strong do you like your coffee? 'Cause I've built up such a tolerance to it, I make it too intense for most people.

Emily: What are you doing?
Rory: I'm gonna make it.
Emily: Oh, Rory, you're not serious.
Richard: That hardly looks like dinner.
Emily: I agree. Rory, that's food you eat at a carnival or in a Turkish prison.

Lorelai: I love snow.
Rory: Really? I had no idea.
Lorelai: [giggles] Everything's magical when it snows. Everything looks pretty. The clothes are great: Coats, scarves, gloves, hats.
Rory: Thermal underwear, wool socks, ear flaps.
Lorelai: Do you know the best things in my life have happened when it snowed?
Rory: Why, yes, I do.
Lorelai: My best birthday.
Rory: Your first kiss.
Lorelai: Your first steps. They all happened when it snowed.
Rory: Feet. [Lorelai adjusts the blanket]
Lorelai: I feel good. Tingly.
Rory: That's called frostbite.
Lorelai: You are mocking your mother, the woman who birthed you.
Rory: I'm sorry.
Lorelai: During a snowstorm, might I add.

Lorelai: Hey, sweets, I have a locksmith coming to the house today, like 5:00-ish, and I don't know how long it could take. So will you tell Grandma and Grandpa that I'm going to be late and that I'm having Satan's baby? You pick the order.
Rory: I'll relay the time message but I'm leaving the rest to you.

Lane: [on the phone] You're never around when I need you.
Rory: You know I have to go to my grandparents' on Fridays.
Lane: I know. You go to your grandparents'. You go to Chilton. You have to meet Dean. He needs his cookies. "I can't find my books."
Rory: What are you taking about?
Lane: What good is it to have a best friend when she's never around, never listens, and she has no interest in the fact that you're in love or that you touched his hair?
Rory: You touched whose hair?
Lane: Rich Bloomenfeld.
Rory: Why would you touch Rich Bloomenfeld's hair?
Lane: Why? That's a good question. I don't know why. Why would a sane person do a thing like that? Maybe I'm not sane. Maybe I'm going through some sort of phase. Maybe I really, really needed someone to talk to about this, and you weren't there.
Rory: Lane, come on.
Lane: No, you're always at school, or you're talking about school or you're with Dean. You have everything now, and I have nothing except for 2,000 Korean Bibles and a potential "F" in jazz band.
Rory: I'm sorry.
Lane: Don't be sorry. Be here.

Lorelai: What are you doing up?
Rory: I couldn't sleep. It's freezing in here.
Lorelai: Wait. Close your eyes and breathe. [Rory inhales] I smell snow.
Rory: Oh, it's that time of year.
Lorelai: Can't you smell it?
Rory: You know, it's like dogs and high-pitched noises. I think it's something only you can smell.

Lorelai: Hey, how is it out there?
Michel: It is cold and gray, like a fat, dead pigeon.
Lorelai: Oh, we'll pull out the sleds. People might want to sled. Ooh, and the parkas. We'll need the parkas.
Michel: For what?
Lorelai: In case anyone wants to hike.
Michel: You know not everyone finds the idea of being pelted with frozen water appealing.
Lorelai: I know, and how sad for them.
Michel: The sensation of getting lost in a blizzard of freezing to death in the woods, eating your friend's buttocks to stay alive... that is lost on many people.
Lorelai: I am telling you, five minutes in a snowball fight we could knock that stick right out of your butt.

Lane: So, anyhow, Rich has this amazing hair.
Rory: Really?
Lane: Oh, my God. It's so perfect. It's thick, but it's not too thick, and it's got really good natural wave. So he probably uses way less product than most guys.
Rory: Always a plus.

Lane: I just can't believe it. I mean, I've known him since the sixth grade, but suddenly he's different. He's not gangly anymore. You remember how gangly he was?
Rory: I'm sorry. What?
Lane: You're not listening to me.
Rory: I am. I'm sorry. I just couldn't find my bookmark. Okay, go ahead.
Lane: Okay, here are the problems facing the whole Bloomenfeld-Kim situation. One: Hyphenation would be a pain. Two: He's my band partner. Romance would be completely awkward. Three: He's never even looked at me like I'm a girl or something resembling one. Four: There's no way I could convince my parents he was Korean. But I can't help it. I'm obsessed. Did I tell you about his hair?
Rory: It's on his head, right?