Angel

Uncle John: Nick, what's this? Nick: You said [to] get a utensil. Uncle John: This is a shrimp fork. Nick: (in exasperation) Well, pardon me if our ancestors didn't leave behind any ex-husband brain-eating forks.

Harriet: I'm definitely the yin to his yang, but it works. He's got a good heart, Francis, just like you. Doyle: Yeah, maybe. But the container -- can I get a side of bland to go with that bland?

Cordelia: Well, someone has to go out there and cheer him up. (Angel stands up) Oh please. Someone with a heartbeat.

Cordelia: Hi Doyle. Are you gonna become loser pining guy, like, full time? 'Cuz we already have one of those around the office. Angel: Hey! Doyle: Hey! Cordelia: He can get away with it. He's tall, and look at the way clothes hang on him. But you... Angel: Okay. I think you've cheered us up enough.

Harry: One word, Francis. Just one word and I'll eat your brains.

Harry: Were you or were you not intending to eat my ex-husband's brains? Richard: In a way... Harry: And when were you planning on telling me? Richard: I thought maybe I wouldn't have to. Harry: You were going to start our life out together with deceit? Doyle: Sort of missing the point, isn't she?

Aunt: Come on girls. It's pornographic Pictionary time! Harry: Their ways are not... our ways.

Harry: Richard said having the former husband present was some sort of tradition. I was just wondering... Aunt: Well, they're certainly not going to eat your ex-husband's brains... for instance.

Harry: Sometimes I felt like I was one of his students. Cordelia: That's funny. For a moment, I thought you said one of Doyle's students. Harry: It wasn't fun being treated like a third grader, believe me. Cordelia: Grade third taught Doy... Doyle taught third grade? The kind with children? Are you sure he wasn't just held back and used that as his cover story?

Uncle John: Let's see. First we greet the man of the hour. Then we drink. Bring out the food. Then drink. Then comes the stripper. Darts. And then we have the ritual eating of the first husband's brains. Then charades. Brother: Wait! What was that? ... Charades?

Doyle: You know they have trivia games on the Internet now? You can challenge against drunks from all around the world.

Cordelia: So here I am at Le Petit Renard with Mr. Armani, who could keep me in blue boxes for the rest of my life... Angel: Blue boxes? Cordelia: Tiffany's! God!

Cordelia: I was thinking that maybe I haven't been entirely fair to you. Maybe you don't actually have zero potential. Doyle: Wow, Cordelia. Thanks.

Uncle John: We don't flaunt our beliefs, but they're very near and dear to us. Harry: Oh, please Uncle John. When's the last time you pried yourself away from ESPN long enough to spill the blood of a she-goat?

Cordelia: Maybe Doyle does have hidden depths. I mean, really *really* hidden. But depths. And I'm gonna have to buy him a mochaccino for saving my life.

Cordelia: All I could think about was if this wimp ever saw a monster he'd probably throw a shoe at it and run like a weasel. Turns out the shoe part was giving him too much credit.

Cordelia: Doyle was pretty beat up, but do you know the first thing he asked? "Are you okay?" I mean, that's like... substance, right? Angel: There's definitely more to Doyle than meets the eye. Cordelia: So I've got to kill myself. I swore when I went down this road with Xander Harris, I'd rather be dead than date a fixer-upper again.

Doyle: The only money in my family is underneath the couch cushions.

Doyle: Are you okay? Cordelia: I'm fine. That was...you were so...brave! Doyle: You think you could say that again without so much shock in your voice? You're stepping on my moment of manliness here. Cordelia: I'm sorry. I'm... just... Doyle: Surprised? Cordelia: Grateful.

Cordelia: (to Angel) All of a sudden, rich and handsome isn't good enough for me. Now I expect a guy to be all brave, and interesting — and it's your fault! Both of you.

Richard: You're not trying to back out, are you? Not after you gave your blessing. Doyle: Yeah, yeah I take it back! Richard: Well, I see. Now I'm not so sure I even want to eat your brains!

Cordelia: Nice guys don't always finish last. Doyle: You think I'm a nice guy? Cordelia: I think it, I say it. It's my way.