Jim: So let's just say that Dwight has come at you with the throat punch. Now how would you, Dwight, defend against it?
Dwight K. Schrute: Easy. Allow me to demonstrate. I am attacking myself with a throat punch. Here it comes. Block. Grasp wrist as such.
Jim: And what if he comes at you with the other hand, because he does have two.
Dwight K. Schrute: Good point. Second, throat punch, absorb the blow. Groin punch, hip block, elbow to the gut. Uh oh, up to the nose. No, you're not. Ow! Oh!
Jim: Oh my God, he's making you look like such a fool.
Dwight K. Schrute: He really is, but not for long. Ow! Instep, oh, not again. [screaming] You let go, you let go. Oh, you're right, I can't hold on.
Jim: You two are so evenly matched I don't know how one of you is going to get the upper hand.
Dwight K. Schrute: The important thing to remember, Jim, we always have what is called the element of surprise. [hits himself in the groin and moans]

Dwight K. Schrute: What is the meaning of this email that everyone got?
Michael Scott: You'll have to be more specific, Dwight. I get like eight emails a day.
Dwight K. Schrute: This one, from David Wallace to all Dunder Mifflin.
Michael Scott: Woo hoo, shout out!
Dwight K. Schrute: "Hello everyone I am sure you have seen the item in the Journal. I just want to stress that it's all conjecture. If there's any concrete news you will know ASAP."
Michael Scott: Erin, do we have the journal?
Erin: Your feelings journal? You told me to put it in the time capsule.
Michael Scott: Did you?
Pam: Michael, he means the Wall Street Journal online.
Michael Scott: Oh, the Wall.

Kevin: Michael, are you okay? Did you throw up in there?
Michael Scott: No, I'm just poopin'. You know how I be.
Kevin: It smells like throw up in here.
Michael Scott: Crazy world. Lotta smells.

Andy: I like Erin. There, I said it. I was kinda hoping she would ask me out, but things have not panned out on that front, so... It is time for the Nard Dog to take matters into his own paws.

Jim: Listen, Wallace said these were just rumors, right? So we have no reason to think the company is anything but fine. So if we just go on with our work, you and me, they'll follow along.
Michael Scott: Monkey see, monkey do.
Jim: That's it.
Michael Scott: Monkey pee all over you.
Jim: That rhymes, so what have we on the docket today?

Jim: Sure I'm a little nervous, but doing our work will make us feel better. I only slack off when things are good.

Meredith: "Belles, Bourbon and Bullets, a murder mystery dinner party game."
Michael Scott: It is so much fun. Everybody plays a character, we go around the room, we try to figure out who did it...
Jim: Hey, I am wondering if this is a, uh, terrible idea.
Michael Scott: This is my call Jim, big picture stuff, it's about murder.
Jim: I thought we agreed that we wouldn't do things like this.
Michael Scott: Tube City, you owe me one.
[aside to camera:]
Jim: Co-managing is a give and take. You have to pick your battles. One of the battles that I picked was to stop Michael from running plastic tubes all over the office and placing hamsters inside of them. He was going to call it Tube City. So, yes, I do owe him one.

Voice on C.D.: [in Southern accent] August the 5th, 1955. It's a sad day down here in Savannah. Local magnate Bill Bourbon was killed last night and all y'all have congregated tonight for a meal to celebrate Bill as he passes on to his great reward. You're not just here to pay your respects, you have to figure out which of y'all is the no-count scoundrel who killed him.
Stanley: This is ridiculous. [Stanley and Angela get up to leave]
Michael Scott: There will be food. You leave, you do not get food.
Stanley: What kind of food?
Michael Scott: Sandwich platters.
Stanley: I'm in. [Stanley sits back down]
Michael Scott: Baby carrots. [Angela sits back down]

Michael Scott: Okay, here are your character cards. Take one, pass it down. Here is your prop box, some of your characters will have props. Now, on your character card, it tells you who you are, and what your alibi is. Everything else is up to your imagination. So, if you talk slowly in real life, your character could, say, have been kicked in the head by a horse.
Kevin: Cool, I'll try it.
Michael Scott: Okay, use your imaginations.

Michael Scott: Now, shall we get to the mystery?
Pam: I'll go. [stands up, begins to speak with a Southern accent] My name is Deborah U. Tante. Deb for short.
Andy: That's clever, Debutante.
Pam: Bill Bourbon was my uncle. I would have never hurt him any more than I'd hurt a June bug.
Meredith: Nice accent. You sound like Forrest Gump.
Pam: I do not.