Fran Kubelik: I never catch colds.
C.C. Baxter: Really? I was reading some figures from the Sickness and Accident Claims Division. You know that the average New Yorker between the ages of twenty and fifty has two and a half colds a year?
Fran Kubelik: That makes me feel just terrible.
C.C. Baxter: Why?
Fran Kubelik: Well, to make the figures come out even, if I have no colds a year, some poor slob must have five colds a year.
C.C. Baxter: Yeah... it's me.

C.C. Baxter: You hear what I said, Miss Kubelik? I absolutely adore you.
Fran Kubelik: Shut up and deal...

Miss Kubelik, one doesn't get to be a second administrative assistant around here unless he's a pretty good judge of character, and as far as I'm concerned you're tops. I mean, decency-wise and otherwise-wise.

C.C. Baxter

Just because I wear a uniform doesn't make me a girl scout.

Fran Kubelik

Premium-wise and billing-wise, we are eighteen percent ahead of last year, October-wise.

Kirkeby

Sylvia: You mean you bring other girls up here?
Kirkeby: Certainly not! I'm a happily married man.

George: That's not your grandfather.
Paul: It is, you know.
George: But I've seen your grandfather. He lives in your house.
Paul: Oh, that's my other grandfather, but he's my grandfather, as well.
John: How do you reckon that one out?
Paul: Well, everyone's entitled to two, aren't they?

Grandfather: Hullo.
John: He can talk then, can he?
Paul: 'Course he can talk. He's a human being, isn't he?
Ringo: Well if he's your grandfather, who knows! Ha ha ha!

Man on Train: And we'll have that thing off as well, thank you.
Ringo: But...
Man on Train: An elementary knowledge of the Railway Acts would tell you that I'm perfectly within my rights.
Paul: Yeah, but we want to hear it, and there's more of us than you. We're a community, like, a majority vote. Up the workers and all that stuff!
Man on Train: Then I suggest you take that damned thing to the corridor or some other part of the train where you obviously belong.
John: Give us a kiss.

Man on train: Don't take that tone with me, young man. I fought the war for your sort.
Ringo: I bet you're sorry you won.

Man On Train: I shall call the guard!
Paul: Ah, but what? They don't take kindly to insults, you know. Let's go have some coffee and leave the kennel to Lassie!

George: What's the matter with you, then?
Ringo: It's his grandfather. I can tell he doesn't like me. It's cause I'm little.
George: Ah, you've got an inferiority complex, you have.
Ringo: Yeah, I know, that's why I play the drums - it's me active compensatory factor.

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