Marge: Looks like I've had quite an impact on your kids.
Philip: You're proud of getting a high school kid suspended?
Marge: If you mean, am I proud to have told him to do anything you have to for what you believe in then, yes, I am.
Vivian: Marge, when you talked to Will about when we chained ourselves together at sit-ins, you're only giving him the romantic part of the struggle. Girlfriend, you are leaving out everything that went before it. The leaflets, the petitions, the years of trying to work through the system.
Marge: If the system doesn't work, you have to blow the door down. Looks like you forgot that.
Philip: You talk as if I wasn't there with you in Birmingham facing dogs and fire hoses. This is me, Olifami. The same Olifami that was with you the night Harlem went up in flames. But now I have a family and I choose not to fight in the streets. I have an office to fight from and I have fought and won cases for fair housing, affirmative action, health care, and I am not ashamed to write a big fat check for something I believe in and that doesn't make me any less committed than you. So don't you dare look down your damn nose at me, Adibola.

Vivian: Marge, girl, you must be tired after your trip. Now, you're staying with us. And I don't want to hear any arguments.
Marge: You aren't getting any. Just tell me where to plug in my eight-track.
Philip: Geoffrey will take your bags up to the guest room.
Marge: I carry my own bag. [to Geoffrey] My brother, you have been oppressed, repressed, and suppressed by capitalism. Don't you know you can be free?
Geoffrey: I have known freedom, don't like the health plan.
Philip: Geoffrey is not oppressed. He's more our friend. Aren't you, Geoff?
Geoffrey: Whatever you say, Phil.

Will: Yo, I'm gonna go with you. Man, if we gonna be underground, though, I'll probably need another name. How about, Akbar Shabash Jenkins?
Marge: Will, you're a kid. You belong at home. You're only 17.
Will: Oh, by the time you were 17, you burned your first bra.
Marge: Baby, you can't do what I did.
Will: But I could go get one of Hilary's.
Marge: What I mean is, you have to find your own way, Will. You know, when I was your age there weren't many doors open to us. Some of them we had to blow open, and because we did you've got more opportunities. Now, don't get me wrong. I am not saying that things are perfect. lt's just that now you can fight our battles in the boardrooms, too. And in the classrooms, the voting booths, and the courtrooms. Just like your uncle.
Will: All right, hold it. I thought you said "by any means necessary."
Marge: Right, but it's up to you to figure out what's necessary. And, Will, when the courtroom doesn't work, come find me.
Will: You're a deep sister, Adibola.
Marge: And you are the future, Hasani.

Philip: Marjorie Smallwood is a very close personal friend of mine. I consider myself privileged to know her. She was here, but she left some time this afternoon.
Agent Collins: Do you have any idea where she was headed?
Philip: As a matter of fact, she said she was going to a nuclear power plant in Texas. But then again, she did mention a migrant workers' camp in Salinas.
Vivian: No, honey, she said she was going to a voters' registration drive in Biloxi.
Hilary: Well, I thought she was just going to Saks.
Will: Oh, get the heck out of here. You all mean she ain't in the bathroom?
Agent Collins: I must say, I'm disappointed in you, Mr. Banks. I would have thought a man in your position would be more aware of his responsibilities.
Philip: I know exactly what my responsibilities are. Son, would you show Agent Collins to the door?
Carlton: By the way, I don't think we've met. Ricky Ricardo.

Marge: Boy, you two have come a long way from that fifth floor walk-up you had when Olifami and I were in law school.
Philip: Ooh, boy, those were the days. We marched on Washington, staged sit-ins, held hunger strikes.
Will: Would that have been between breakfast and lunch, or lunch and dinner?

Ashley: Mom, look at how short your skirt is.
Philip: Oh, your mother's legs made the miniskirt famous.
Ashley: I have Mom's legs. Can I wear my skirt that short?
Philip: You have my legs, and the answer is no.

Ashley: Greetings, Sister Adisimbol. Greetings, Brother Olifami. Power to the people!
Will: Whoa, Ash, you kind of look like Winnie the Pooh Mandela.

Marge: Look, I guess I better just flat out say this. The FBI wants me.
Philip: What?
Vivian: The FBI?
Carlton: Really? Could you put in a good word for me? I'm thinking of applying.
Philip: [sighs] She means they're after her, Carlton. She's a fugitive.

Carlton: Marge. We're behind you 200%. Peace.
[After Marge leaves the room, Carlton runs and picks up the telephone]
Carlton: Operator, get me the FBI.
Will: Carlton, what are you doing, man?
Carlton: Come on, Will. We're harboring a fugitive.
Will: She's not a fugitive, she's our friend.
Ashley: Yeah. And ever since she got here my diary has been a lot more interesting.
Carlton: Well, I agree, Ashley's diary is a lot more interesting. But it's not worth going to jail over.
Vivian: Okay, that is enough, Carlton.
Philip: Your mother and I will handle this. [both exit]
Carlton: [to Will] I hate to sound paranoid, but do we really know if Mom and Dad are who they say they are? Or if their names are really Mom and Dad?

Mr. Knotts: Actually, none of us is going. It seems that a lot of your parents just don't approve of this exhibit and since going was my bright idea, I've been fired.
Will: What? No. What? Hold up, they can't do that.
Carlton: This is an outrage! They can't give us a new teacher now. I mean, I've spent the whole semester sucking up to you.