— So I figured it out.
— What?
— Why Scott doesn't want to sleep with me. I'm not sexy enough.
— Phoebe, that's crazy. When I first met you, you know what I said?
— What?
— I said, "Excellent butt, great rack."

— I got you something.
— What's this?
— Eight hundred and twelve bucks.
— I don't know what Big Leon told you, but it's a thousand... if you want me for the whole night.

Oh, I'm sorry. Did my back hurt your knife?

— Look at this! My Big Book of Grievances.
— Hey, there's me! "April 17th, excessive noise... Italian guy comes home with a date." You're in here too.
— "April 18th, excessive noise... Italian guy's gay roommate brings home dry cleaning." Well, that's excellent.

— Monica, relax. Go get a beer.
— I don't want a beer.
— Who said it was for you?

Did you notice how he always starts his stories with, um: "Okay, I was so wasted," or, "Oh, we were so bombed." Or, um, "So I wake up and I'm in this Dumpster in Connecticut."

— Hey, what is all that?
— It's a web site. It's the Guggenheim Museum. She likes art... and I like funny words.

— The One With the List. All right, check out this bad boy! Twelve megabytes of RAM, 500-megabyte hard drive... built-in spreadsheet capabilities... and a modem that transmits at over 28,000 BPS.
— What will you use it for?
— Games and stuff.

— Oh, my God! There's an unattractive nude man playing the cello.
— Just be glad he's not playing a smaller instrument.

— We didn't agree to live together forever. We're not Bert and Ernie.
— I'm aware that we're not gay puppets, all right?

— The camera adds ten pounds.
— So how many cameras are actually on you?

— Hey, Pheebs. You know what I'm thinking?
— Oh, okay. How... it's been so long since you've had sex... you're wondering if they've changed it?
— No. Although now that's what I'm thinking.

— Okay. Okay. We'll leave. When we pass her... she won't know me, because we never met!
— That's how radio stars escape stalkers!