Dwight K. Schrute: Oh, come on. It's not real, Stanley. Don't have a heart attack.
Michael Scott: No, no, no! You will not die! Stanley! Stanley! You will not die! Stanley! Stanley! Barack is president! You are black, Stanley!

CPR Trainer: All right, well, lets get back to it. 'Cause you're losing him. Okay, too fast. Everyone, we need to pump at a pace of a 100 beats per minute .
Michael Scott: Okay, that's uh, hard to keep track. How many is that per hour?
Jim: How's that gonna help you?
Michael Scott: Well, I will divide and then count to it.

Dwight K. Schrute: It's very unusual for Michael not to show up to work. My guess? He's either deeply depressed, or an icicle has snapped off his roof and impaled his brain. He has this terrible habit of standing directly underneath them and staring up at them. And I always say, "Michael, take two steps back, and stare at the icicle from the side." And he's like, "No, I like the way they look from standing directly underneath them."

Stanley: Yes. I had a heart attack. I would quit, but I'm too old to find another job and I don't have enough saved to retire. I feel like I'm working in my own casket.

Stanley: It's true. Around this office, in the past, I have been a little abrupt with people... But the doctor said if I can't find a new way to relate more positively to my surroundings I'm going to die.

Michael Scott: Remember when people used to say boss, when they were describing something that was really cool? Like, those shoulder pads are really boss man. Look at that perm, that perm is so boss. It's what made me want to become a boss. And I looked so good in a perm and shoulder pads. But now, boss is just slang for jerk in charge.

Michael Scott: Andy.
Andy: [in a British accent] A throne for your highness.
Stanley: I'm not sitting in a wheelchair.
Michael Scott: No, no, no. No debate. You are going to sit in that wheelchair until you are back on your feet.
[aside to camera:]
Stanley: I'm going to die.

Michael Scott: I, um, I spent the afternoon in the park trying to feed the pigeons. I guess they all flew west for the winter. And I, I just had some thoughts that I wanted to share with you people.
Pam: What?
Michael Scott: Well, I wrote them down so I wouldn't forget. [clears throat] Jim, you're 6'11 and you weigh 90 pounds, Gumby has a better body than you. Boom! Roasted! Dwight, you're a kiss ass. Boom! Roasted! Pam, you failed art school. Boom! Roasted! Meredith, you've slept with so many guys you're starting to look like one. Boom! Roasted! Kevin, I can't decide between a fat joke and a dumb joke. Boom! Roasted! Creed, you're teeth called, your breath stinks. Boom! Roasted! Angela, where's Angela? [Angela raises her hand] Whoa, there you are. I didn't see you there behind that grain of rice. Boom! Roasted! Stanley, you crush your wife during sex and your heart sucks. Boom! Roasted! Oscar, you are... [Stanley is laughing, Michael joins in] Oscar, you're gay.
Oscar: Wow.
Michael Scott: Andy, Cornell called. They think you suck. And you're gayer than Oscar. Boom! Roasted! [Stanley is still laughing] All right. All right, everybody. You know I kid. You know I kid. You guys are the reason that I went into the paper business. So, uh, goodnight, God bless, God bless America, and get home safe.

CPR Trainer: A-B-C. Okay? And that stands for: airway, breathing and circulation.
Michael Scott: Okay, you know what? That could be a little confusing, because in sales A-B-C means "always be closing."

Andy: [singing and playing the guitar] What I hate about you, you really suck as a boss, you're the laziest, jerkiest and you're dumber than applesauce. We're stuck listening to you all day, Stanley tried to die just to get away, heeey, well it's true. That's what I hate about you. That's what I hate about you. Yeah. And now, a man that deserves no introduction, Michael Scott.