You want me to work for your father? And get paid for it? Like some sort of slave?

Before that got sad and weird, you said, "If you want my opinion," and we don't.

He called to ask me, I asked him, can you put a bullet in my brain? That would probably be a better career move.

Am I going to be 35 soon? That's when they make you president! I don't want that! That's too much responsibility!

By Jove, she's doing it! She's flying to the sun! That's where she's going. Now we don't need to be sad when we think about her later.

I’ll tell you the same thing I tell kids in the cancer ward. I'm not here to make friends. I'm here to win and/or cure cancer.

This has been fun, and also an offensive display of extravagant wealth, but maybe we should call it a night.

Can you wait until you're out of earshot to make your exasperated sighs, please?

And what about so-called "experts," who say it's wrong to keep these girls in captivity so they can amuse and entertain us? Well, to those people I say, "Stop saying that, okay?”

That's a funny way of saying congratulations. But not funny "ha-ha", more like funny… Doonesbury.

Hey, is that BoJack Horseman? I don't know because I have no peripheral vision.

I would have gone to her directly, but sometimes she yells at me and I do not like being yelled at and that is just something that people need to understand about me.

“Surprising depth"? God, they always gotta slant it. Why can't it just be "depth"?

When people see what you do in this movie, they are gonna storm Daniel Day-Lewis's house, schlep him out into the street, shoot him in the head. That's how good your performance is. It's gonna make Daniel Day-Lewis look like shit. They're gonna hate Daniel Day-Lewis.

Fine. Keep your stupid secret about your clearly dead wife and your probably-related dumb fear of flying. See if I care.

I snuck up on you on purpose as a symbol for the alarming creep of dementia.

I feel, all the time, like a garbage fire. And not a cozy dumpster in a quaint alley, but a barge, floating out to sea, with no rudder. I am a rudderless burning large garbage barge.

You got some mail, babe! …You understand I'm using that pet name ironically, right?

And what better way to view such disquieting omens than through these gorgeous floor-to-ceiling windows?

You can't have happy endings in sitcoms, not really, because, if everyone's happy, the show would be over.

It wasn't all bad. I mean, yeah, I got secretly drugged for months on end to the point I was living in a nightmare which I couldn't recognize my own body or understand what was happening to my brain, but, other than that, it was a pretty chill experience.

As Max Headroom would say, "Your m-m-m-mom is a b-b-b-bitch”.

The best way you can help us is to go back to your regular life and stay out of politics forever.

Am I really being courted by two gangs? Oh, I feel like the belle of the ball.

My enjoyment didn’t come from a place of sincere admiration. It was more like, “What an ill-conceived television show. Who made those terrible choices? I can’t stop watching.

I am incredibly fragile and could use all the support I can get, so if everyone could pay a lot of attention to me, and ask me a lot of questions about my mother, and maybe tell me stories about your mothers, I think that would really make me feel a lot better.

Print media? What a joke. Now I got a job in broadcast network television, a booming industry with nowhere to go but up.

Oh, for the love... Where's your follow-through? It's like you didn't even want to kill yourself!

Toast! I smell burning toast!

I was eating a taco earlier and I got salsa on my shirt. I went to clean it off, but then when I put my hands in the automatic dryer I forgot I was still holding the taco. I got my hands all greasy, so I couldn't open the doorknob for an hour.