Peter: They're playing cricket with a tennis ball.
Peter: What about our snake?
The Chief Steward: It's dead.
Peter: He killed it?
Jack: It's got to be against his religion or something.
Francis: Any questions?
Peter: I have one. What happened to your face?
Francis: Ok. Let's check the next itinerary.
Peter: Fuck the itinerary.
Francis: He has this disease where his head is shaved except he doesn't have to shave it because he can't grow any hair in the first place. Don't talk about it around him though. It might offend him.
Peter: You know, maybe right before whenever you're about to take out your tooth, you should say something like, "Please forgive this." Because, actually, it's kind of...
Francis: Can you back away a little? You just spit in my eye.
Francis: Is that my belt?
Peter: Can I borrow it?
Patricia: [Exasperated by her son's questions] Maybe we could express ourselves more fully if we say it without words.
Patricia: Should we try that?
Jack: Do you want to go in the bathroom and smoke a cigarette with me?
Peter: Those Germans are bothering me.
Patricia: God Bless You and keep you with Mary's benevolent guidance in the light of Christ's enduring grace. All my love, Your Mother, Sister Patricia Whitman.
Francis: Cough syrup? That's a dumb way to get loaded, Jack.
[repeated line]
Francis: Let's go have a drink and smoke a cigarette.
Francis: I guess I've still got a lot of healing to do.
Jack: Gettin' there, though.
Peter: Anyway, it's definitely going to add a lot of character to you.
Francis: [after Jack comes back from having sex with Rita] Where are the savory snacks?
Jack: What?
Francis: [pause] Did you just fuck that Indian girl?
Francis: Is that Dad's razor?
Jack: I think he's still in mourning.
Francis: Well I probably still am too.
Francis: Let's take a look at the itinerary.
Peter: Fuck the itinerary.
