Philip: Speaking of prisoners, let's talk about Will. You know, maybe Bel-Air Prep isn't the right place for the boy. Maybe he could get more from a different environment.
Vivian: Mmm. Well, so could we. Come on, I'll race you to the Jacuzzi.
Philip: Wait a minute, now. I found a school that's a little further away than we're used to.
Vivian: How much further?
Philip: Switzerland. Now that that's settled, I'll go fire up the Jacuzzi.
Vivian: Back it up. Philip, how could you even suggest shipping Will off to some boarding school?
Philip: Okay, okay, I'm sorry, you're absolutely right. Will's a great kid, I've even grown to sort of... Anyway, I'm sorry I even mentioned Switzerland.
Vivian: Okay. You're forgiven.
Philip: Thank you. Would you consider Great Britain? Well, a man can dream, can't he?

Geoffrey: Oh, Lord, I don't know whether to dive under the table or do the running man.

Vivian: Carlton, honey, what happened?
Carlton: Will told everyone at the airport I was Bryant Gumbel.
Will: I thought I'd get my luggage faster.
Vivian: Oh, you poor baby, what did they do? Mob you for autographs?
Carlton: No, five old ladies attacked me for being mean to Willard.

Will: See, look... Just think of it as honeys on my hip, Uncle Phil, you know? It's like I need to keep in touch with my squaws, right? See otherwise, you know, they get all frazzled and frantic and everything. You know how it is, right, Uncle Phil?
Philip: No, I do not.
Will: Well, that's because you only got one squaw and you all never go nowhere.
Vivian: Well, this one squaw says take your behind upstairs, change, and no beeper. And, Philip, how come we don't ever go nowhere?

Philip: And may I say that if you go with our firm it'll be the best decision you ever made. Well, enough business talk, Mr. and Mrs. Cornfeld. Please, enjoy the party.
Norma: Thank you. Call me Norma.
Philip: Norma.
Whitey: And, you can call me Whitey.
Philip: I think not.
Whitey: Well, everyone does, on account of my white hair.
Philip: [chuckles] Oh, oh, the white hair.
Vivian: Hello. Welcome to our home. I'm Vivian, Philip's wife.
Philip: Vivian, say hi to Whitey.
Vivian: Hello, Whitey. Philip, why am I calling that man Whitey?

Ashley: Yo, yo, yo Mommy and Daddy.
Vivian: Oh, look. It's the entertainment.
Philip: Well, I think this is our youngest daughter, Ashley. She just had a brain operation. Her head's a little swollen, hence the hat. Very good, honey.
Vivian: Ashley, what are you wearing?
Ashley: Will got it for me in Philly. Ain't it fly?
Philip: Switzerland, Vivian.
Vivian: Not far enough, Philip. Ashley, go upstairs and change right now.
Ashley: But, I like it. And if I don't wear it, it'll hurt Will's feelings.
Philip: If you do wear it, you'll never see 18.
Ashley: I never liked Will, anyway.

Hilary: Will, get away from the buffet table. Your jail suit is scaring the people away.
Carlton: With all due respect, Hilary, it's not Will's fault, it's... How shall I put this? The food sucks.
Will: Man, what are you talking about? It looks good to me.
Hilary: Uh-oh. The pepper's moving. [Will spits out his food] That is the last time I buy sushi out of the trunk of a car. Tuna roll?

Philip: Will, I told you there will be no beepers worn in my house.
Will: Oh, well, I didn't really disobey you, Uncle Phil, 'cause, see technically, we not in the house. Smog.
Philip: Get rid of that thing.
Will: Come on, Uncle Phil, what's wrong? Do you think everybody's gonna think I'm a drug dealer? I mean, why wouldn't they think I'm a doctor?
Carlton: 'Cause everyone knows Buckwheat never went to medical school.

Jazz: When did you get back?
Will: I just got back this morning, man.
Jazz: Man, welcome home. Later. [closes door]
Will: Jazz! Jazz!
Jazz: Weren't you just here?
Will: I've been gone all summer. Isn't there something else you'd like to say to me?
Jazz: Now that you mention it, yeah. You dating Whoopi Goldberg?
Will: How about "come in," man? I need a place to crash.
Jazz: Whoa. You got a place to crash. A mansion with a pool, a tennis court and a toilet that flushes without using a coat hanger.
Will: Not no more, man.
Jazz: Dang, your toilet broke, too?

Will: No, Jazz, it's my uncle, man. He kicking me all this static. I told him, "You can't accept me for me, I'm out of here."
Jazz: I'm with you, my brother.
Will: So, I can stay with you?
Jazz: No. I already have company.
Will: What company?
Jazz: Company with breasts.
Will: Look, Jazz, can you ask them to come back another time, please?
Woman: [o.s.] Jazz, I'm getting lonely.
Jazz: They're lonely.
Will: Come on, Jazz, if you don't let me stay here, I'm going to be out on the street, man.
Woman: [o.s.] Jazz!
Jazz: Sorry, my brother but those are the harsh realities of the cruel world in which we habitate. And now, booty awaits me.