Sandra: That's what you feel here. Support, family, homeyness, warmth. It must reflect your upbringing. [Lorelai scoffs] No?
Lorelai: I am just happy I wasn't sipping coffee when you said that, it would have come out my nose.
Sandra: Oh. Childhood wasn't so warm and fuzzy?
Lorelai: You know Superman's fortress of solitude? A Jamaican beach, compared to my mother's house.
Sandra: So I'll cross your mother off your list of inspirations.
Lorelai: No, I actually did pick up some valuable lessons on running a staff from my mother.
Sandra: How so?
Lorelai: Well, I consider what my mother would do in a given situation, then I dial it back, and I have what Mussolini would do, then I dial it back, and I have what Stalin would do, and then I dial that back and then it starts approaching what a sane person would do.
Sandra: [laughs] Ouch.
Lorelai: You're right. Let's find a topic happier than my relationship with my mother. Basically that would be anything short of famine. [Sandra laughs] Okay. I will tell you one story about my mother on a family vacation. Jimmy Carter was there. And he had a bigger room...

Lane: So, Sophie Bloom. Your last name's Bloom.
Sophie Bloom: Thanks for the info.
Lane: I was looking through some old vinyl I have. I don't have much, because I was born right on the cusp of the CD revolution. But I originally had a record player. A Snoopy record player. Boy, I love this record player. And shutting my door and listening to music on it-
Sophie Bloom: Oh, my God, Garrison Keillor, what is your point?
Lane: I saw the name "Sophie Bloom" on this album - the one non-Christian one my mother allowed me to have. It just popped out at me and I was wondering...
Sophie Bloom: Oh, this thing.
Lane: So, it's you. You wrote these songs?
Sophie Bloom: Long time ago.
Lane: I think this is amazing! Because I want to do more than just drum. I would like to write and compose and I was wondering if we could sit down sometime and just talk about music, because I think you have so much you can pass on to me. Woman to woman. Really, just coffee sometime. My treat.
Sophie Bloom: Well, I suppose sometime when I'm not working or out of town, if my boyfriend's busy and my laundry's done, and I'm not sick and there's nothing on TV, we could maybe meet up for a couple of minutes.
Lane: It's a date.

Paris: I packed my bags and was on the road before I remembered that parents don't own property in the United States anymore.
Rory: Since when?
Paris: Since the IRS red-foxed my father. The place in Asylum Hill, the Nantucket cottage - even the crack-house in Harlem that we converted into a co-op was sold to one of the Queer Eye guys.
Rory: Where'd they go?
Paris: They're going to wire me when they're safe.