Kirk: Luke, check it out. I've been published.
Luke: You have?
Kirk: Mother wanted to sell her dinette set, so I put pen to paper, got my creative juices flowing, and voila.
Luke: You put a want ad in the Stars Hollow Gazette?
Kirk: It's a powerful feeling seeing yourself immortalized in print. Sure, it's only newsprint. It rips easily, it comes off on your fingers, and the next day, people use it to wrap fish, but, hey, it's how Dickens got started.
Luke: In want ads?
Kirk: Man, this thing really flows. "Vintage dinette set, formica, barely chipped, priced to move." It's precise, efficient, Hemingwayesque in its terse simplicity. Hey, with two buns in the oven, you wouldn't be interested in a dinette set, would you? Seats four.
Zach: No, thanks, man.

Sookie: Ooh, Angelina and Brad had their baby. [gasps] Months and months ago.
Lorelai: Yeah, you're a little behind the times.
Sookie: This is the problem with having two kids under the age of 4. World events just pass you by.
Lorelai: Are you done with those favors?
Sookie: You know, I cannot believe Britney is driving with her baby on her lap like that. What is she doing with that guy, by the way?
Lorelai: Well, you'll be glad to know they've since broken up, although it turns out he was kind of a stabilizing influence in her life. Who knew?
Sookie: You're kidding.
Lorelai: Mmm-hmm.

Lorelai: Look, there are times when you have to put those differences aside. Like, you know Joseph, from the bible, and how his brothers got all mad at him about that dreamcoat.
Mrs. Kim: Yes, and so they sold him into slavery.
Lorelai: Yeah. I don't think that was in the musical.

Lane: You didn't hear about the fight? Me and my mom, classic Kim family grudgefest? If not for your mom, we might have gone the way of pretty girls make graves. They were so young and had so many killer albums left in them.
Rory: So my mom brokered peace?
Lane: Hard-core. Listen, here's the thing. My kids are gonna need that, too. You know, when they're hiding bibles and they can't stand me. So what I wanted to know is would you be their Lorelai Gilmore? I guess that's the proper term.
Rory: Really?
Lane: I can't think of anyone who would be better. Plus, you already have the name.
Rory: I'd love to. Yeah.

Kirk: Listen to this one. "Does the spray of the open ocean call your name?" Evocative, huh? This guy can write. "Sturdy 15-foot fishing boat. Back-to-back seats, closed bow, meticulously handcrafted." How far out of town is 1211 Elmwood?
Luke: 1211 Elmwood?
Kirk: That's what it says here.
Luke: Let me see that. That's my boat!
Kirk: Really? How much are you asking? Because I wasn't looking for a boat, but that ad is so snappy, it makes me think I wouldn't mind owning one.

Kirk: Ahoy, Lorelai.
Lorelai: Yeah, Kirk. What's with the hat?
Kirk: Oh, this? No big deal. Just bought myself a boat.
Lorelai: A boat?
Kirk: Yeah, the S.S. Lurk. It's a combination of my name and Luke's since it used to be his boat.
Lorelai: Oh, you bought Luke's boat.
Kirk: Yeah, she needs a little more work before she's seaworthy, but as soon as she is, I'll take you out. You can be Ginger to Lulu's Mary Ann. Let's lock down dates now. When are you free?

Rory: Are you sure we got enough plain onesies?
Lorelai: Let me see. 40 people have RSVped "yes" to Lane's shower, and we bought 60 onesies for them to decorate. I don't want to go all Beautiful Mind on you, but according to my calculations...
Rory: Yes, Mr. Nash, but you are forgetting about the first-pancake phenomenon.
Lorelai: Huh?
Rory: Yes, the first pancake. You always throw it out. What if people start decorating their onesies and they hate what they do, so they want to start over and we don't have enough onesies because we only estimated one each?
Lorelai: Why do you throw out the first pancake?
Rory: Well, because the griddle's too hot. It gets burned.
Lorelai: Oh, my god. Next year, no excuses. We are making you that audition tape for Top Chef.
Rory: This is pretty basic stuff.
Lorelai: Do you do it with hamburgers and waffles, too?
Rory: No, it's pancake-specific.

Lorelai: Oh, my God. The New York Times?
Rory: The New York Times!
Lorelai: They called you?
Rory: They called me.
Lorelai: Why did they call you?
Rory: Well...
Lorelai: Don't even answer. I mean, if I was the New York Times, I would be like, "Get me Rory Gilmore on the phone, stat."
Rory: "Stat"?
Lorelai: Whatever the equivalent of "stat" is in the news.
Rory: "Now"?
Lorelai: No! At the New York Times, the language is very fancy. You say "promptly," "presently," "two shakes of a lamb's tail."

Rory: God, I need to prepare. He's gonna expect me to ask him really intelligent questions.
Lorelai: Honey, you've been asking intelligent questions since you were 3.
Rory: Yeah, he's probably expecting something a little more sophisticated.
Lorelai: Than "what is a color?" Because that one, like, blew my mind.

Rory: Oh, my god. The New York Times called me, and not the subscriptions department.