Lorelai: Milton Berle, it smells like?
Sookie: Milton Berle? Are you saying my kitchen smells like Milton Berle?
Lorelai: Milton Berle, Broadway Danny Rose, Carnegie Deli.
Sookie: Pastrami.
Lorelai: Pastrami!

Richard: That's right. We do need new people for doubles.
Emily: We've been playing with that awful Bunny Ferguson, and her husband, whatever his name is.
Richard: They are dreadful.
Emily: The way Bunny Ferguson grunts. Oh, I mean, it's one thing if you're Maria Sharapova and you're 120 pounds and a 7-foot blond teenager. But if you're 5'3"-
Richard: ...and 53.
Emily: ...and wearing plaid. Did you see that skirt she wore the last time we played them?
Richard: I can only think that it was designed to cause some sort of optic misfunction.

Emily: You do like lamb, Christopher? I'm afraid I never let you answer.
Christopher: I do. The funny thing is, I never did when I was a kid, but I do now. I guess I've changed. People do that sometimes.
Emily: That's so true. What a clever observation. It's like you and radishes.
Richard: Exactly.
Emily: Your father used to hate radishes. Thought they were disgusting.
Richard: Well, they are roots. It's a little unappealing.
Emily: And then one summer in Aspen, he fell off a horse, and suddenly he loved radishes. That whole summer, he was radish-crazy.
Richard: It's true. I do like radishes. To this day.

Lorelai: You're just in time for rooty rhubarb pie, and for the viewing of mom's mug shot.
Emily: Rory, stop her.
Rory: I'm sure you look very nice, Grandma.
Christopher: You are very photogenic, Emily.
Lorelai: Ooh! What am I saying? I have pictures on my phone. Gather 'round the phone, everybody.
Emily: Richard, what are you doing?
Richard: Oh, nothing. Nothing. Oh! These new phones are amazing.
Rory: Are those handcuffs? Grandma, are you wearing handcuffs?
Emily: I certainly was not.
Christopher: No, they gave her one of those ankle things instead with like a chain and cannonball on the end.
Emily: Christopher!
Lorelai: Oh, and the stripy outfit. Tell Rory how they made you wear the stripy outfit, Mom.

Lorelai: Okay. Toothbrush, hairbrush, hypoallergenic pillow, chenille blanket... Ooh, comfort shoes. Got them.
Christopher: Those are your comfort shoes?
Lorelai: Not mine. Paul Anka's.
Christopher: We're staying in tonight. You can probably get away with flats.
Lorelai: He loves, loves, loves chewing on these. They remind him of a squirrel carcass.
Christopher: Yummy.
Lorelai: Don't judge. You eat jerky like it's going out of style.

Lorelai: It's his first night staying at your house. I want him to have all the stuff that makes him comfortable. Ooh, tennis balls! [exits]
Christopher: I actually have tennis balls.
Lorelai: [o.s.] Penn or Wilson?
Christopher: You're joking.
Lorelai: Paul Anka's must be Penn. They must be new, they must be green. Not orange and green, just green. And FYI, you might want to watch that sarcastic tone of yours because dogs are very attuned to tone. It's kind of like Chinese, in that respect, dog language. It's very tone based. And you are stressing him out right now with your tone.

Logan: Nice night.
Rory: Oh, my God, you're here! What are you doing here?
Logan: Happy to see me?
Rory: Beyond happy. Ecstatic. I can't believe you're here. And look at me, I'm covered in highlighter ink and I smell like Fritos and Ginger ale.
Logan: It's an aphrodisiac.

Rory: Ooh! A 2003 red something. I bet it's very oaky and corky and full of fruity legs.
Logan: Know a lot about wine, do you?
Rory: Not so much, but the label's pretty.
Logan: There's also gazpacho, that cheese-pie thing you love, plus flan.
Rory: Ooh, flan! You got me flan?
Logan: Doesn't take much to make you happy, does it?
Rory: Not when you're on this continent.

Lorelai: Not until you explain your choices.
Christopher: What?
Logan: The View? Girlfriends? Sabado Gigante? Who controls this thing, you or Pedro Almodvar?
Christopher: It's the nanny.
Lorelai: Sure, it's a likely story.

Christopher: Yeah, it's the first I've heard from her since the divorce was final. Go ahead. Read it.
Lorelai: Wow, how Dangerous Liaisons of her. She doesn't call. She doesn't e-mail. Then she sends you a letter with a wax seal that weighs roughly the same as a porterhouse.