Daria

Daria: (to Kevin) That's a motorcycle jacket. It's made out of leather to protect you from scrapes when your head's bouncing off the grill of a truck.

Tom: The reiteration? Powerful. Daria: Like getting hit in the head repeatedly with a sock full of quarters.

Mr. O'Neill: Daria, are you depressed? I mean, more than usual.

Brittany: (to Kevin) But what about our eternal love that was supposed to last till graduation?!

Daria: My home life's becoming intolerable. Jane: Becoming intolerable? Daria: Is there such a word as "intolerabler"?

Tom: Actually, why not send [Kevin] back to elementary school? Daria: Because he'd never meet the academic requirements.

Mr. O'Neill: You're being judgmental, Daria. And you know what they say: judge and you get mental. Daria: And you know what I say... Jane: Life sucks and then you die?

Daria: Gee, this won't end badly. Jane: You know, we are the ones who told him to get a motorcycle. Daria: Hey, if we told him to jump off a bridge, would he do that? Jane: Dunno. We'll try that next time.

Brittany: (Pointing to the crutch she planted following Daria's advice) Look, the new Tommy Sherman Memorial Tree. Jane: Lovely. Brittany: I wonder why it isn't blossoming. Daria: Did you take the little rubber thing off the bottom? Brittany: Oh! Jane: Oh,hmm, Daria? Maybe we should go inside before lightning strikes you dead and bits of you mess up my nice shoes.

Brittany: Daria, Jane, would you like to contribute to the Tommy Sherman Memorial Tree Fund? We're hoping to get his ghost out of the girl's room. Jane: It takes a tree to get him out of the girl's room? Did he turn into a dog or something? Brittany: (Confused) I don't think so.

Mack: This isn't working. The new guy, he's got some weird rules. Jodie: You mean weirder than sticking your butt in the air and making a football appear? Mack: It's called a hike.

Brittany: Then he said his armpits would know only the embrace of his crutches! Jodie: What does that mean? Brittany: I don't know, but it sounds bad! Like Kevvy's armpits have feelings, but not for me, now what do I do with lips so empty, so yearning? Jodie: Lips? So we're off the armpit thing? Daria: You know, if you break up Brittany's attempted thought, it looks like a Mystic Spiral song. Jane: (Reading from Daria's paper) "Armpits have feelings, but not for me. Now what do I do with lips empty?" Eh. Are you sure you don't want to replace lips with skull? Daria: It's a work in progress.

Jane: (Referring to Kevin's accident) This is sort of what happened at my fourth birthday party, only it involved a tiny tricycle and a chimp. Daria: The difference being?

Helen: Jake, that's the Lawndale Shopper. It's written by an 80-year-old man who, if you recall, had to be brought down from his roof by the fire department because he thought he was being chased by screaming mice. Jake: That doesn't mean it isn't true. Quinn: Oh, Dad, mice don't scream. Daria: Yeah, you're thinking of lobsters. Who's up for seafood?

Kevin: I don't deserve to drink Gatorade. That stuff is only for sports guys. From now on, I drink Yoo-hoo! Brittany: No!