Del Spooner

I'm sorry, I'm allergic to bullshit.

You know, somehow, 'I told you so'... just doesn't quite say it.

— Sugar!
— I'm sorry?
— For the coffee. Sugar? Oh, you thought I was calling you "sugar". Hey, you're not that rich!

— A robot can no more commit murder than a human can walk on water.
— Well, you know there was this one guy a long time ago.

— Do you ever have a normal day?
— Ya, once. It was a Thursday.

— Well, then I guess we're going to miss the "good old days"
— What "good old days"?
— When people were killed by other people.

— You are just a machine. An imitation of life. Can a robot write a symphony? Can a robot turn a canvas into a beautiful masterpiece?
— Can you?

Look, I understand you've experienced a loss, but this relation just can't work. I mean, you're a cat, I am black and I'm not going to be hurt again.

— So, Dr. Calvin. What exactly do you do around here?
— My general fields are advanced robotics and psychiatry, although, I specialize in hardware to wetware interfaces in an effort to advance USR's robotic anthropomorphization program.
— So, what exactly do you do around here?

Does thinking you're the last sane man on the face of the earth make you crazy? 'Cause if it does, maybe I am.

Hey, so, what hospital you going to? I'll meet you and sign you and your buddy's cast.

Do I look like I care what you think? Do I look like I give a shit about what you think?

— Thought you were dead.
— Technically, I was never alive... but I appreciate your concern.

— Hey, did you just shoot at me with your eyes closed?
— Well, it worked... didn't it?