Holtz: Boys? String him up!
Angel: I protest. This gismo looks silly.
Holtz: Wait till you see the nipple clamps.
Angel: Not. Again.

Darla: Nobody likes me.
Gunn: You keep spilling yucky fluids.
Darla: Fine. I'm leaving. Zoom! Hey, it's just like that car commercial.

Holtz: Young lady? It's past your bedtime.
Sarah: This sucks.
Holtz: In 18th century England, we burn unruly children.
Sarah: How barbaric.  I wish I could trash you on Oprah.

Angel: Ow.
Holtz: Yeah, baby.
Lilah: Why don't you just kill him?
Holtz: Isn't it obvious?
Angel: Gotta go! Bye!
Holtz: Bitch.

Angel: Where is my lover and our highly sought-after, incredibly significant 
love fetus? And my car?
MoG: Uhm…
Angel: Man, I was so right to fire you.

Darla: Soul. Baby. Love. But not. Fuck!
Angel: Are you still speaking English?
Darla: I want the baby. But I don't want the baby.
Angel: Oh. I see.

Holtz: I can't tell if I'm good or evil.
Demon: Existential therapy is $80 an hour.
Holtz: Better shop around.

MoG: Your kid's toast. You're shit out of luck.
Angel: Story of my life.
Holtz: Check out the recurring fiery building.
Angel: Bad building! Bad!
Darla: Crap.
Angel: Wah!
Darla: Eh. I was getting bored anyway.
Angel: Wah!
Darla: Bye! (poof!)
Baby: Wah!
Fred: Cool!
Baby: Hello? Is no one going to pick me up?
Angel: I suppose. Here's a leather coat. Happy birthday!
Baby: So what's my last name?
Angel: Wouldn’t you like to know.

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