Olivia Pope. The gift that keeps on giving.

This is a Greek tragedy in the making. Winged mistresses flying too close to the sun.

James: You’re a shameless monster.
Cyrus: Who loves you dearly!

Mellie: I just don't understand why I have to apologize for his affair.
Cyrus: Because that's how it works.

Cyrus: You're worried about James cheating on me? That's...oddly sweet.
Mellie: Once you open that door, Cyrus, you cannot close it again. It changes you. Changes everything.
Cyrus: My husband's not your husband, Mellie.

We are the devil. I am actually the devil...you should have seen me handle it. There's a dead closeted hillbilly on the floor and there I am, 'give me your sin, Sally', without blinking. The devil is at the top of his game.

Cyrus: I'll give you exactly one second to get your feet off my desk.
Leo: Or what?
Cyrus: Or I'll cut 'em off and shove 'em down your throat.
Leo: I'm a size 11 1/2. I seriously doubt my feet would fit down my throat.
Cyrus: I'm not talking about your feet you baby-faced twit. I'm talking about your balls. Have they even dropped yet? Will you miss them when they're gone?

[to James] Girls like to be kissed first, right? Romance them a little before you dive right into their pants.

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.