[praying over Heather's casket] Hi, I'm sorry. Technically, I did not kill Heather Chandler, but hey who am I trying to kid, right? I just want my high school to be a nicer place. Amen. Did that sounded bitchy?

What's the up-chuck factor on that?

Suicide gave Heather depth, Kurt a soul, and Ram a brain. I don't know what it's given me, but I have no control over myself when I'm with J.D. Are we going to prom or to hell?

Tomorrow, I'll be kissing her aerobicized ass, but tonight, let me dream of a world without Heather, a world where I am free.

Heather McNamara: God, aren't they fed yet? Do they even have Thanksgiving in Africa?
Veronica Sawyer: Oh, sure. Pilgrims, Indians... Tator Tots. It's a real party continent.

Veronica Sawyer: That knife is filthy.
J.D.: What do you think I'm going to do with it, take out her tonsils?
Veronica Sawyer: Excuse me, I think I know Heather a little bit better than you do. If she were going to slit her wrists, the knife would be spotless.

Heather Duke: Veronica, you look like hell.
Veronica Sawyer: Yeah? I just got back.

Dear Diary, my teen-angst bullshit now has a body count.

Veronica Sawyer: I just killed my best friend.
J.D.: And your worst enemy.
Veronica Sawyer: Same difference.

Veronica Sawyer: Heather, why can't you just be a friend? Why do you have to be such a mega-bitch?
Heather Duke: Because I can be.

J.D.: Wanna go out tonight? Catch a movie? Miniature golf?
Veronica Sawyer: I was thinking more along the lines of slitting Heather Duke's wrists open, making it look like suicide.
J.D.: Ah, now you're talking. I can be up for that. I've already started underlining meaningful passages in her copy of Moby Dick, if you know what I mean.

Veronica Sawyer: All we want is to be treated like human beings, not to be experimented on like guinea pigs or patronized like bunny rabbits.
Veronica's Dad: I don't patronize bunny rabbits.

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