Lorelai: Ooh, I'll put it on the computer and then superimpose an important person standing next to you, seeing you off. Like Kissinger or Lady Bird Johnson or Pat Summerall or something.
Rory: Pat Summerall?
Lorelai: You think of somebody better.
Rory: Orson Welles.
Lorelai: It can't be a dead person.
Rory: Pat Summerall's dead.
Lorelai: No, he's not.
Rory: Pat Summerall is dead.
Lorelai: No, I'm telling you, he's not. Lady Bird Johnson is dead.
Rory: No, she's not.
Lorelai: How much you wanna bet?
Rory: Five bucks.
Lorelai: Let's google him right now.

Lorelai: Well, I can vouch for this man. I mean, I know he cared for Nicole, and apparently they both got a little rash. I mean, not in "apply to affected area twice daily" rash, I mean rash in that they hastily entered into a union.
Mr. Blodgett: We know all this.
Lorelai: But if you think he married her to get something, I know that's not true. He's basically a hermit, and happy to be one. I could show you his place upstairs. I mean, you half expect Hari Krishnas to jump out of the bathroom banging tambourines. All he likes is fishing and watching baseball, and he's got a reel and he's got a TV, so he's all set. So when he says he wants nothing, I know he means it, because when I think of Luke Danes, I think nothing.
Luke: Mr. Blodgett, Steins one and two, there you go.

Luke: The first night on the boat we, uh, went to see an act that everyone was raving about. We go in, sit down, they close the door. Turned out to be a guy playing musical drinking glasses. You know, with the half-filled cups that give off different tones. He played Mozart, and I swear I could hear Mozart banging on his coffin. Out of politeness, we stayed, and there went an hour of our lives. Next night, the sign in front of the theater said the entertainment for the night was a guy singing the songs of Sinatra. We verified with the guy at the door, the songs of Frank Sinatra, right? Not Tina, not Frank Jr., not Bill Sinatra, but Ol' Blue Eyes. "Yes," he says. "It's like Frank come to life." We go in, sit down, they close the door. Then they announce that the guy singing Sinatra is sick and the glass-playing guy is filling in. Out he comes, there's goes another hour. Next night, we meet a nice couple while walking the Lido Deck. Had some nice conversation, so we have dinner with them. Everything's going great. Then they invite us to go somewhere afterwards - guess where they took us? That's right, to see the glass guy. Three nights in a row, three hours total. Well, that's what I want. I want those three hours back.
Mr. Blodgett: We'll have to confer on this.
Mr. Stein #2: Maybe do a productivity study.
Luke: Yeah, get Blobb, Fromm and Pinnuccio in there, too.

Paris: Remember my nanny? I lost her over the summer.
Rory: I'm sorry, what happened?
Paris: She opened a pupuseria in Boise.
Rory: So she's okay?
Paris: Yeah, but I was pretty lost. Then my rabbi conferred with my therapist who said a hypnotist he knew thought a life coach would be right for me, and that led me to Terrence. He's here to assist me with whatever I need assistance in, from wardrobe to diet to finding me a kick-ass gynecologist.
Rory: That's great, Paris, really.
Paris: He's done so much for my people skills. I can cope with the little annoyances now. [to Tana] For instance, the old Paris would've been bothered by your penchant to hover. It would've made her wanna ring your neck until your eyeballs popped out.
Tana: Oh.
Paris: But now, I accept it because I can't control everything. Paris Gellar.

Lorelai: I want you fully outfitted and settled for your first night or I won't sleep.
Rory: We can get it all later.
Lorelai: No, no. Now go unpack the skimpy amount of stuff I've gotten you so far and I'll be back in a couple of hours. Copper boom.
Rory: What?
Lorelai: It's what you said to me this morning when you were trying to speed me up.
Rory: But you missed a bunch of stuff in between.
Lorelai: I think it's catchy. Go, go, unpack.
Rory: Copper boom!
Lorelai: Copper boom!

Lorelai: All right, I should go. I called Luke last night and he made me promise to get the truck back by two hours ago, so if I leave now it's sooner than I planned.

Rory: I've got too much stuff.
Lorelai: [o.s.] What?
Rory: Stuff! And it's your fault. You inculcated into me a tolerance for rampant consumerism.
Lorelai: What?
Rory: When did I become one of those girls with dozens of beauty products, none of which are expendable? It used to be a touch of mascara, dab of Coppertone, zip, bam, boom, out the door.
Lorelai: I heard copper and boom.
Rory: Never mind.

Luke: Where's your mom?
Rory: She's coming. She's having a wee bit of trouble with your truck.
Luke: What is she doing?
Rory: Well, she backed the truck out of our driveway all fine and everything, but once she hit the road, she couldn't get it out of reverse, so she...
Luke: Backed it here?
Rory: Slow but steady.

Lorelai: This is a misogynistic truck!
Luke: What?
Lorelai: It's anti-woman, it's gender-selective, it's "Oh, let's drink a beer and watch the game and hike our shorts up."
Luke: I changed my mind, you can't borrow my truck.
Lorelai: But it's full of our stuff.
Luke: You should've hired movers.
Lorelai: You could've said no when I asked to borrow the truck.
Luke: You said you could drive a stick.
Lorelai: Yeah, not the Joe Sixpack of sticks. Not the "Oh, let's scratch our bellies and eat some corn nuts and pick our teeth."

Lorelai: Do you know how vulnerable you are to venereal disease?
Rory: All hail to the queen of the non-sequiturs.
Lorelai: This parent orientation I went to was a nonstop litany of the horrors awaiting college freshman. You're supposed to carry a whistle, a flashlight, a crucifix, and a loaded Glock with you at all times.
Rory: We should go out there. She'll think we're hiding.
Lorelai: Okay, just don't shake hands with her. Bacteria.
Rory: Mom.
Lorelai: Or tell her where you live.
Rory: Too late.
Lorelai: Oh, you touched the doorknob.
Rory: Good grief.