Lorelai: I don't know what's wrong with me. This is a beautiful festival. People should be enjoying it.
Luke: It's a crazy festival based on a nutty myth about two lunatics who in all probability did not even exist. Even if they did, they probably dropped dead of diphtheria before age 24. The town of Stars Hollow probably got its name from the local dance hall prostitute. Two rich drunk guys who made up the story to make it look good on a poster.
Lorelai: You're full of hate and loathing, and I got to tell you I love it.
Luke: Oh, it's good to have someone to share this hate with.

Tristin: Ah, to be young and in love.
Paris: What a shame Elizabeth Barrett Browning wasn't here to see this. She'd put her head through a wall.

Miss Patty: This, boys and girls, is a story of true love. A beautiful girl from one county, a handsome boy from another. They meet, and they fall in love. Separated by distance and by parents who did not approve of the union, the young couple dreamed of the day that they could be together. They wrote each other beautiful letters, letters of longing and passion, letters full of promises and plans for the future. Soon, the separation proved too much for either one of them to bear. So, one night, cold and black with no light to guide them, they both snuck out of their homes and ran away as fast as they could. It was so dark out that they were both soon lost. And it seemed as if they would never find each other. Finally, the girl dropped to her knees, tears streaming down her lovely face. "Oh, my love, where are you? How will I find you?" Suddenly, a band of stars appeared in the sky. These stars shone so brightly, they lit up the entire countryside. The girl jumped to her feet and followed the path of the stars, until finally she found herself standing right where the town gazebo is today. And there waiting for her, was her one true love who had also been led here by the blanket of friendly stars. And that, my friends, is the story of how Stars Hollow came to be and why we celebrate that fateful night every year at about this time. Now, we still have a little time left in our story hour. Who wants to hear about the time I danced in a cage for Tito Puente?
Kids: Me.
Miss Patty: It was the summer of '66.

Dean: It's depressing.
Rory: It's beautiful.
Dean: She throws herself under a train.
Rory: But I bet she looked great doing it.
Dean: I don't know, I think maybe Tolstoy's just a little over my head.
Rory: No, that's not true. Tolstoy wrote for the masses, the common man. It's completely untrue that you have to be a genius to read his stuff.
Dean: Yeah, but-
Rory: Now, I know it's big.
Dean: Very big.
Rory: And long.
Dean: Very, very long.
Rory: And many of the Russian names tend to be spelled very similarly, so it's confusing.
Dean: Every single person's name ends with "sky". Now, how's that possible?

Dean: So, what book did you bring?
Rory: What?
Dean: Come on. You always bring a book, and I was just wondering what's the three-month anniversary book?
Rory: Actually, I brought The New Yorker.
Dean: A magazine, really?
Rory: It's the fiction issue.

Lorelai: Where is he taking you?
Rory: Why?
Lorelai: Well, you don't want to clash with the decor. A lady plans ahead.
Rory: If you must know, he's taking me to Andeloro's.
Lorelai: Isn't that romantic.
Rory: I know.
Lorelai: Wow. It's gonna be just like Lady and the Tramp. You'll share a plate of spaghetti, but it'll just be one long strand. You won't realize it until you accidentally meet in the middle. Then, he'll push a meatball towards you with his nose and you'll push it back with your nose. Then, you'll bring the meatball home and you'll save it in the refrigerator for years...

Emily: [opens door] You're late.
Lorelai: How did you do that?
Emily: What?
Lorelai: Answer the door before I even rang the bell?
Emily: I thought I heard something. I came to the door. You were there. Come in, please.
Lorelai: You thought you heard something?
Emily: Yes.
Lorelai: Mom, that door is, like, 10 feet thick.
Emily: So?
Lorelai: So, it wasn't like I was standing out there with a band of jackals. I was just drinking coffee.
Emily: Lorelai, what is it that you want to hear? That I was standing by the window, staring out at the driveway waiting to pounce the moment you arrived?
Lorelai: Yes, because believe it or not, that would be less creepy.

Rory: You're building me a car?
Dean: I'm building you a car.
Rory: This is crazy. Why would you do this?
Dean: I don't know. You didn't have one.
Rory: You're completely insane.
Dean: What? I didn't want you wasting time on the bus anymore. That is valuable time we could be arguing about your ongoing obsession with very confusing Russian authors.

Rory: No. Put that away.
Lorelai: I want to cook.
Rory: You can make soup.
Lorelai: No. I want to really cook like on the Food Channel. I want to saute things, and chop things, and do the "bam!" And I want to arrange things on plates so they look like a pretty little hat. I want to be the Iron Chef.

Rory: Stop it.
Dean: No, you look cute.
Rory: I'm eating.
Dean: Well, you eat cute.
Rory: I do not eat cute. No one eats cute. Bambi, maybe, but he's a cartoon.