Whatever happens, remember the best part of me loves you. Maybe the only good part.

Olivia: Tell me we're not the help, Cyrus, that I am not some maid with a mop in my hand cleaning up messes whenever they ring the bell. If you can do that for me--
Cyrus: I'd be lying.

Olivia: We're gonna lose the election on Tuesday.
Cyrus: Let's be honest. We lost the election today.

Leo: Any words of advice?
Cyrus: Nope. Well, maybe. Try and protect your soul if you still have one. It's futile, but you should still try.

Olivia: We're going to win the election now. They lost their child. America will rally behind them.
Cyrus: We're going to win. I hadn't really thought about it.
Olivia: I did. A child is dead and that's the first thing that popped into my head.
Cyrus: I was going to let that church blow up with everyone in it.

Olivia: How did we get like this? When did we stop being people?
Cyrus: Were we ever people? Or did serving at the pleasure of the President just help us to shed our pesky skins and unmask us as the monsters we really are?

Do you need to validate your broomstick or can you find your way out on your own?

You really want to pretend we don't all know how this movie ends? It's not going to be a surprise, Sir. It's rather predictable, really, she's Olivia. You're Fitz. At a certain point in time, the two of you are going to find yourselves together in the same room. The ancipation relentless, isn't it? We all know what happens next. We've seen this movie a hundred times.

Cyrus: You could call a friend.
Olivia: Are we? Still friends?
Cyrus: I need a favor.

Sorry to be such a bastard, Liv.

Mellie: It's not the same. My child, your husband. It's not the same.
Cyrus: I keep hearing that. The loss of a child is greater. I resent that, never having lost a child. I resent having to feel like losing the love of my life, the only someone who ever made me feel like I was truly me, is less of a loss, is smaller than your loss. I am now broken. I'm not me. I'm forever changed. I'm undone. A broken heart is a broken heart. To take a measure is cruelty.

Cyrus: Liv's on it.
Abby: You're not even a little concerned?
Cyrus: Oh, I'm concerned. I'm concerned that Fitzgerald Grant's second term as President of these United States is about to be derailed because his wife won't stop eating fried chicken long enough to put on a cocktail dress. I'm concerned that our enemies are sharpening their long knives for the rapidly approaching moment when it becomes acceptable to point out that maybe, just maybe, the President's homelife has begun to affect his decision making. I am concerned that everything I have devoted far more of my soul to than has ever been right or healthy or appropriate is about to come crashing down on a 16 year old's grave. But no, I am not concerned that Olivia Pope will fail. I am never concerned that Olivia Pope will fail.