“Listen," Mac interrupted, "you still have to knock it out of the park. But it's a degree-of-difficulty thing. You're doing a triple lutz and she's skating. You're the Sasha Cohen here.”

“Knock, knock. (Desiderius) Now, ain't this a bitch. Here I am, trying to kiss my girl, and you have to interrupt us. What, were you raised in a barn? By the way, touch the woman, or the Lamborghini, and you're a dead man. (Kyrian)”

“Sooner or later she'll figure out the truth: you're a shell of a man, all she has to do is knock against you to find out you're empty.”

“Going out? Are you going out? He's not going out? What do you mean he's not going out? Are you out here because you're still mad that they moved the Dodgers to L.A.? Are you going out or not? You're not going out? I guess you're not going out — huh? You mean go out parking in the evenings? Are you going out to park? Mr. Tepper, he asked at one point, did you ever — if you were in the middle of an interesting story in the paper or perhaps an interesting conversation with somebody who dropped in to talk to you while you were parking — notice that the meter had run out and therefore go out and put more money in the meter? If we're both keeping an eye out, what does it hurt?”

“She's going to do nothing but try to trick information out of me that I shouldn't be giving her, Mac," I said."Ungh," Mac agreed."Why did I say yes?"Mac shrugged."She's pretty," I said. "Smart. Sexy.""Ungh.""Any red-blooded man would have done the same thing.""Hngh," Mac snorted."Well. Maybe not you."Mac smiled a bit, mollified."Still. It's going to make trouble for me. I must be crazy to go for someone like that." I picked up my sandwich, and sighed."Dumb," Mac said."I just said she was smart, Mac."Mac's face flickered into that smile, and it made him look years younger, almost boyish. "Not her," he said. "You.”

“Listen closely...this is the most important thing you need to know while you're here. Do not eat the haddock. They've been overcooking it terribly.”