Nick: Don't mean to interrupt, I just hear you're the best teacher of adults?
Jess: Oh, no.
Nick: I wonder if there's room for one more?
Jess: No!
Nick: How you guys doing? I'm Julius Pepperwood.
Jess: Not now, okay?
Nick: I'm an ex-cop, ex-Marine. I'm here to learn how to write short fiction.
Jess: Oh, okay, Julius, just... take a seat and, um, keep small.
Nick: I'm from Chicago. Thin-crust pizza? No, thank you. I'm from Chicago.

Schmidt: A pogo is what your friends talk about when you leave the room.
Cece: Oh, like your barnacle toenails?
Winston: Uh... sh...
Schmidt: You guys talk about my toenails?
Winston: Never... talk about your toenails, Sch... Schmidt.
Schmidt: I know my toenails are a little rugged. Woodsy.
Winston: I mean, I have never wondered if you could shimmy up a palm tree.
Schmidt: But it's because I have a keratin surplus, I mean... They're not that bad, look at these things.
Winston: Aah! Schmidt!
Cece: Ew!
Winston: It looks like an open Swiss Army knife.
Schmidt: Most of them are hard, but one of them is really, really soft.

Jess: Oh, my God, what happened to your eyebrows? You look like Audrey Hepburn.
Winston: Don't we own an industrial-size paper cutter?
Jess: Ugh!
Schmidt: Oh, whatever.
Nick: What the hell is that?
Jess: So close to the eating area!
Schmidt: Winston told me that you guys make fun of my gremlin toenails. That you call them "clickety-clacks" or "centaur boots."

Nick: There it is. If anything's gonna go down, we need a safe word.
Jess: Nothing's gonna go down unless we make it go down.
Nick: If Pepperwood taught me anything ...
Jess: There's no Pepperwood.

Cece: I know, I know, I know ... we'll just talk about what my pogo is. What's my pogo? Is it the way I say "pan"? Pan, pan, pan.
Schmidt: Look, Cece, this is more of just a loft thing. Just thank your lucky stars that you don't have calcified mongrel toes!
Winston: Things sound like a dang ol' crab.

Jess: I just can't connect with them and I don't know why.
Nick: Look, Jess, you can't teach people how to write.
Jess: Not true.
Nick: I say that as a writer.
Jess: Also not true.
Nick: A writing class is for somebody who doesn't think lyrically in terms of, like, poetic words that just... are strung...

Jess: Nick, you've gone way too far! Way too far.
Nick: Well, if you're here for Edgar's notebook, you're too late.
Jess: Where's the notebook? Nick! What's my one rule?
Nick: It's to not steal your yarn.
Jess: Don't steal my yarn, man. It's my one thing.

Nick: Never get caught without a safe word. We're gonna go with "apricot."
Jess: That's way too normal. We need to, like, go with something weird, like "dragon slippers."
Nick: What?
Jess: I use "apricot" too much in my normal life.
Nick: Why do you use "apricot" so much?
Jess: What am I supposed to call them ... "sweet tangy balls"?
Nick: Don't call them "sweet tangy balls," Jessica.

Jess: Nick.
Nick: Call me Julius Pepperwood, please.
Jess: You look ridiculous. If we're hiding from people, why does it matter what I call you?
Nick: I got my eyes and you get my six.
Jess: No, no, what does this mean?
Nick: I'm pretty sure this...
Jess: This means "right turn bicycle."
Nick: No, I'm pretty sure this means "stop..."
Jess: It means "right turn." Nick, seriously ... use your words. Don't use freaking SWAT sign language.
Nick: Apricot, apricot, apricot. Close your mouth, close your eyes.

Jess: Tell me my pogo.
Nick: Jessica, no.
Jess: Tell me my pogo!
Nick: You're a know-it-all!
Winston: Huge know-it-all.
Schmidt: The worst.
Jess: Oh, I'm the worst know-it-all in the world? Please. Hate hyperbolic speak. Please.