Hill Street Blues

Goldblume: Don't worry, Fay. Running away from home is as American as apple pie.

Fay: Is he here? Please tell me he's here! Furillo: Who? Fay: Frank, junior. He's missing! Furillo: What do you mean "missing"? Fay: We had a fight at breakfast. See, he wanted to go camping next weekend with the Benjamins and I told him he couldn't, and he stormed out of the house in a kind of Mediterranean rage he could have only inherited from- (stops short)

Arrestee: Not bad, honkey. Want me to frisk her for you? Renko: What I would like you to do is to shut your face before I relocate it for you in the vicinity of your butt. Teresa: Nice place you got here.

LaRue: I'm tellin' ya man, it's a miscarriage of justice putting that little bozo in a massage parlor. Belker wouldn't know a good massage if it came up and bit him. Matter of fact, that is Belker's idea of a good massage.

Talkative Arrestee: You see, that license don't mutilate for two more years.

Hunter: (to Ray) You know Raymon Calletano al fresco may resig-na-cion... Judas H man, if you're gonna throw in the towel, sit on a sword, not a goldarn tamale!