Richard: Emily, is she home?
Emily: No, she's out. I wouldn't burst in here like this if she were home.
Richard: We should not be here. This is prowling.
Emily: We're not prowling. You can't prowl in your own house. This is called "showing concern." Now, tell me what we're looking for.
Richard: I-I don't feel good about this. It's usually at this point in the John Le Carre novels where things go horribly wrong.

Lorelai: What's wrong, Dad?
Richard: You know what's wrong. Rory's wrong. It's all wrong. She's not going back to Yale. It's my fault.
Lorelai: Rory made a choice, dad.
Richard: I could've stopped her, and I didn't. I cleared the path for her to walk away from her goal, her life.
Lorelai: Dad.
Richard: She's having sex, Lorelai. She's having sex under my roof. I paid $40,000 to redecorate her sex house. I bought her her sex mattress, her sex box springs. I provided everything she needs to waste her life.
Lorelai: Dad, Rory having sex is not your fault, really. She was having sex way before the big renovation.
Richard: I feel so much better now.

Richard: Oh, no. We're allowed to talk about it. We're just not allowed to pay for it.
Lorelai: Dad.
Emily: I wonder if we're allowed to visit it.
Lorelai: Okay, hold on.
Richard: Perhaps if we dress in disguise.
Lorelai: Guys!
Emily: Plastic nose with glasses attached.
Lorelai: Hey, come on. We were doing so well there for a while. Then you had to start with the Yale.
Emily: So we can't talk about Yale.
Richard: I should make a list. What else am I not allowed to discuss in my house?

Luke: I've known my guy for a while.
Richard: You been to his office, checked out his operation?
Luke: I just deal with him over the phone.
Richard: Ah.
Lorelai: What?
Emily: Hubert Lansing.
Richard: Fell prey to a telephone scam running out of Estonia. Took his life with a track-and-field starter's pistol.

Richard: [on the phone] I left her with a battery of help, but in case it didn't work out, she wanted me to give you a heads-up that she might need you.
Lorelai: Well, I don't know if I can get away.
Richard: It's her eyes, Lorelai. She can't do anything or go anywhere.
Lorelai: I understand the importance of eyes, Dad.
Richard: I got caught up in meetings, or I would have called sooner. You wouldn't believe where I'm sitting right now. One of South Dakota's finest hotels. Smells like a foot.

Richard: Tucson.
Lorelai: What?
Richard: Tucson is extremely hot, and it has a dry climate that doesn't agree with me, and I really don't think much of the way they dress out there. And I have a deep aversion to cacti of all kinds. And yet Tucson is a place where I think I would rather be.
Lorelai: Anywhere but here, right, Dad? Although, it's awfully dry.
Rory: And so hot.
Emily: And you're right about the fashion. Ponchos and all that turquoise. Oh, and men in sandals. Spare me. [chuckles]

Rory: Here we go. A little "Maggie Blues."
Richard: Ah!
Rory: That is Bing and Gary Crosby.
Lorelai: Why doesn't anybody name their kid "Bing" anymore?
Rory: You could have named me "Bing."
Lorelai: I thought about it. You didn't look like a Bing.
Rory: I don't even know if I should be insulted.
Richard: I wish I were a crooner.

Rory: I also brought you some Gershwin, some Chuck Berry, and the Andrews sisters. Ooh, and some Milton Friedman.
Lorelai: The guy who sang "Spirit in the Sky"?
Richard: No, that was Norman Greenbaum.
Rory: No, Milton Friedman's the economist who won the Nobel prize in the '70. I figured, when you're sick of reading sir Arthur Conan Doyle, you can pick up a little Friedman for a real mystery and deduce the disadvantages of government intervention in economic policy.

Richard: All right, that's enough. Rory, when are you heading back to Yale?
Lorelai: Yeah, you should hit the road, huh?
Richard: Yeah. Now, remember, you owe me a full report on the T.A. that's taking over my spot. The whole semester should concentrate on microeconomics, so if this Culbertson fellow even mentions Ben Bernanke, give me a call.
Rory: I promise I will.

Richard: If you will excuse me, I have to get back to my golf.
Emily: Richard.
Richard: Please. I know I've missed Jacklin's bogey on the 16th. I'm not missing his putt on the 17th. That's a famous putt, Emily.
Emily: Wait, you're watching an old golf game?
Richard: Well, it's the last singles match of the '69 Ryder cup. Jacklin, Nicklaus... the concession!
Emily: I can't believe you're watching an old golf game instead of eating...
Richard: Fish?
Emily: Dinner with your family. You already know how it's going to turn out.
Richard: Well, that never stopped people going to see Hamlet.