Slater: Everyone else, these are your dossiers. Read them on the way to Tunt Manor.
Cheryl: Tunt Manor! That's my house!
Slater: I know! (mimicking Cheryl's high voice) And because you know the property, you'll be posing as the listing agent.
Cheryl: Ahhhh! (squealing and clapping)
Mallory: Shut up!
Cheryl: Burn!

I am pushing. Swearzy realzies

Cheryl: Oh please, you invented racism? Also, you're just a reconstructed light field produced by firing a razor through a beam splitter..
Krieger's artificial girlfriend: Waaaww!
Pam: Yeah dude, not cool..

What is this Myrtle Beach? (pauses) Ray, is this Myrtle Beach?

Cheryl: See what? What's Area 51?
Pam: What's Area--, are you shitting me? Everybody knows about Area 51.
Archer: Yeah, even me, and I didn't know they made shoes out of cornbread.

Cheryl: Let me guess, you're all butthurt because you hired some Pakistani dude to shoot you so you went to Vegas and now you're drunk and broke outside a casino and you want me to wire a $1000 to buy you a plane ticket and a pre-flight whore.
Archer: Ok, I'm gonna list everything you said that's totally wrong. A) I'm not outside a casino so.......

Cyril: And basically the only thing that keeps you from murdering each other is a lack of access to fire arms.
Pam: Works for Canada.
Cheryl: Nothing works for Canada.

(to Archer) You want a drink, (to Lana) you want to lecture us, (to Pam) you want more bear claws, (to Ray), you want to smoke (to Cyril) you want to masturbate, and (to Krieger) you're scared that we'll figure you you're actually just a Krieger clone

Cheryl: I have an idea!
Archer: OK wait. Does it have anything to do with our current situation?
Cheryl: Yes!
Archer: OK, what is it?
Cheryl: We are stuck in an elevator?
Cyril: The idea! Not our current situation!

Lana: I'm going upstate for seer school
Cheryl: So take her with you!
Lana: To SURVIVAL school
Cherl: Big whoop. Hang her in a bear bag

Cheryl: What the stupid shit are you doing??
Cyril: You said you wanted watermelon.
Cheryl: Watermelon's red?
Cyril: Yes. How do you not know that?
Cheryl: Who am I? Charles Frederick Andress?

Ray: Is this Brett's blood?
Cheryl: Ugh no, just the same type. We had to fudge it a little on the stains, some of which actually were fudge
Pam: And some of which merely resembled it

Archer Quotes

KGB (Crenshaw): This may be old cliche, but... we have ways of making you talk.
Archer: What, your little go-kart battery?
KGB (Crenshaw): Golf cart.
Archer: Whatever. Would you pick an accent and stick with it?

It's like my brain's a tree and you're those little cookie elves.

Archer