Arthur: Let's go somewhere.
Trillian: Definitely. Where'd you have in mind?
Ford: I know this great restaurant at the end of the universe.
Trillian: Let's go somewhere.
Arthur: Where did you have in mind?
Trillian: Madagascar.
Arthur: That new club on Dean Street?
Trillian: No, it's a country. Off the coast of Africa.
Ghostly Image: It is most gratifying that your enthusiasm for our planet continues unabated. As a token of our appreciation, we hope you will enjoy the two thermonuclear missiles we've just sent to converge with your craft. To ensure ongoing quality of service, your death may be monitored for training purposes. Thank you.
Mr. Prosser: Do you know how much damage this bulldozer would sustain if I just let it roll over you?
Arthur: How much?
Mr. Prosser: None at all.
Ford: I checked The Guide for the best way to rescue a prisoner from Vogsphere, it said "don't".
The Book: A man who no more knows his destiny than a tea leaf knows the history of the East India company.
Vogon: Resistance is useless!
Slartibartfast: Ever heard of a place, I think it's called Norway? That was one of mine, I got an an award for it.
Ford: Okay, don't think. Nobody think. No ideas. No theories. No nothing.
[a beat. They all strain to think of nothing. Several paddles shoot up out of the ground smacking them in their faces]
Ford, Arthur, Zaphod: Ow!
The Book: Presidents don't have power, their purpose is to draw attention away from it.
Humma Kavula: [confronting Zaphod Beeblebrox for the first time after losing the Galactic Presidential Election to him] The election is ancient history, Zaphod. If memory serves, you won, proving that good looks and charm win over brilliance and the ability to govern. And for the record? You *are* stupid.
Zaphod: If there's anything around here more important than my ego, I want it caught and shot now!
Ford: You don't remember. Arthur, your whole planet has been destroyed.
Arthur: Couldn't you have done something?
Ford: I saved your life.
Ford: Time is an illusion. Lunchtime, doubly so.
Zaphod: [to Trillian] Hey slim, are you wearing my underwear? 'Cause I'm wearing yours, and they're not doing the trick.
Ford: [distracting the men about to demolish Arthur's house] Workers of the earth! I bring... good tidings of peanuts! And beer!
