Will: Thanks a lot, Ash. Now I'll never know how the story ends. Pardon me for caring, but I really wanted to know what Santa got for Christmas.
Ashley: He doesn't get an actual gift, Will. He gets the love of all the little children in the world.
Will: Really? What a gyp.
Ashley: Oh, come on, Will. Everyone knows there's no Santa Claus.
Will: Wait a minute, there is no Milli Vanilli but there definitely is a Santa Claus.

Hilary: [on the phone] Okay, that would be fantastic. All right. Also, I want to send a box of the fancy chocolate-covered pretzels to a Mr. Patrick Swayze. Right. And the card should read: "Pat, saw these and immediately thought of you. Love, Hilary. XXX." Okay, now, send the same thing to Kevin Costner, Michelle Pfeiffer and Sting. Great, thanks. [hangs up] Well, that takes care of the A-list. Now, should I send the box of pears or the meat thermometer to Steve Guttenberg?
Will: Hilary, I hate to inject some reality into these proceedings but who you trying to fool, baby?
Hilary: What do you mean?
Will: Hilary, you always walk around fronting like you know all these famous people. You don't know nobody.
Hilary: God, Will, you are so jaded and skeptical. You remind me so much of Judd Nelson.

Ashley: Will, don't you have anything better to do with Christmas vacation than writing a silly letter?
Will: Well, what are you gonna do with your vacation? Are you gonna play with your friends?
Ashley: I wish I had someone to play with but every year my friends all go out of town and I'm stuck here all alone.
Will: Ashley, you can still do something to have fun while you're here.
Ashley: I'm going to. I've decided to learn a new word every day.
Will: Ashley, that's boring.
Ashley: Really? I think it's very autodidactic.

Will: Hold up. You guys going to a Christmas party?
Vivian: Well, it's just an office Christmas party.
Will: Man, I remember our Christmas parties back in Philly. The building would be filled with the sounds of Christmas. Jingle bells and singing and laughing. Then at the end of the evening, the traditional police sirens. Those were the days.

Geoffrey: And then came the Third Day of Christmas and still no one had made a present for Santa. Whom shall I ask to help me, boys and girls?
Will: Ooh, I know. Ask the reindeer on your left hand.
Geoffrey: I'd love to help but I have my hooves full as it is.
Will: [laughs] I get it. His hooves are full. He don't have no hands, I get it. Hey, G, I did not see that coming. This is dope, right, Ash? Ashley!
Ashley: [wakes up] I'm awake.
Geoffrey: I don't know why I bother. It's impossible to compete with tawdry entertainment like MTV, Nintendo, the new children on the block.

Will: Okay, Ash, let's write our letters to Santa Claus.
Ashley: Will.
Will: Look, here, you can help me with my list. How do you spell "Vanessa Williams"?

Carlton: Christmas vacation is finally here. God help me, I do love it so.
Ashley: I thought you liked school, Carlton.
Carlton: Ash, I think Bel-Air Academy is one of the best schools in the country. Its academics and sports program are excellent, and the faculty is first-rate but around December 10, it all starts to get a little old. Know what I mean?

Vivian: Philip, we're spending an hour at your office party and then we're coming home. I have too many papers to grade.
Philip: Okay, but first things first. Do you remember the names of all my partners' wives?
Vivian: Yes.
Philip: Okay, who is George Meyer's wife?
Vivian: Eunice.
Philip: [imitates buzzer] That was last year. The new wife's name is Kelly.
Vivian: Kelly? Walter's secretary?
Philip: Mmm-hmm. Now, who is Jack Fitzgerald's wife?
Vivian: Doris.
Philip: The correct answer is Heather, formerly the muffin-cart girl.
Vivian: Wait a minute. How many new wives are going to be at this party?
Philip: Well, let's just put it this way, Vivian. You're the only repeat.

Will: Come on, Aunt Viv, this is terrible. I mean, people in Bel-Air don't know how to celebrate Christmas. I'm worried about Ashley.
Vivian: What do you mean?
Will: Growing up in Bel-Air, she never had a real Christmas. I mean, there's no sledding, there's no caroling... There's no winos making snow angels on the front lawn. I mean, y'all don't even decorate the living room.
Vivian: Yes, we do. We've already started. The poinsettias, the red candles and here's the beautiful crystal nativity your uncle gave me for Christmas years ago.
Will: Where the little baby Jesus at?
Vivian: Right there.
Will: That little disk?
Vivian: There are more decorations coming. A wonderful shop in Beverly Hills comes to the house, sets up the tree and decorates it for us.
Will: Do they open your presents and wear your sweaters for you, too?

Will: Is this the wreath for the door?
Vic: Yeah. Let's talk about that wreath for a moment, if you will. Last year, I was so deeply into the distant salmons and the sandy beiges. But this year I went more with the muted roses with these little arrogant touches of celadon and periwinkle. I think it worked out quite nice.
Will: Um, let's try something wild here, you know? Do you have anything red or green or, I don't know, maybe something like a Santa Claus?
Vic: It's been done.
Will: Excuse us. Ashley, these decorations are wack. Look, we're gonna save Aunt Viv a lot of money and buy them somewhere else. Let's go.
Vic: Excuse me. You forgot your box of decorations.
Will: No, you see, we're going to do our own decorations this year. It's going to be about arrogant little elves and rambunctious reindeer and little men in red suits. I think it will be deeply, deeply dope.