Cheryl: Oh my God, you have a crush on her!
Archer: What?! No I don't, I...
Cheryl: Yes you do! That was the cutest thing! And I think SHE has a crush on YOU.
Archer: No, she...wait, really?
Archer: Why - why - why do you think that? Did she --
Cheryl: Just admit that you like her!
Archer: Well, yeah, of course I --
Cheryl: (yells to room) Hey! Yeah! Me and him, we just f*****d!!
Archer: Putting aside why you'd want to fake your own death --
Cheryl: BECAUSE I have to get away from my family. They're a seething cauldron of neurotic, alcoholic, narcissistic, quasi-incestuous megalomaniacs!
Archer: (pause) How quasi?
Cheryl: I don't know, a 4?
Archer: Out of what?
Archer: Heiresses to fortunes like your family's don't fake their own deaths. They murder their parents and blame it on some poor Hispanic or Negro.
Cheryl: Yes, I thought about that, but I don't know any Hispanics or Negroes.
Archer: No, they make up the Hispanic or Negro.
Cheryl: I honestly wouldn't know where to begin.
Archer: (grunts in pain)
Cheryl: (flashback as a nun) Shhhh-shhhh. Calmez vous. Vous mettez plus en danger.
Cheryl: I want a drink!
Archer: Join this great new club!
I'm not paying 26 bucks for a bottle of frustration!
Malory: Hmmm. Bronze Star with two Oak Leaves and V Device, Legion of Merit, Croix de Guerre with Palm, Silver Star with two Oak Leaves, Distinguished Service Cross with one Oak Leaf and V Device, three Purple Hearts. It goes on, Mr. Archer.
Archer: Yeah, senior year I was voted "Class Flirt."
Malory: And yet you turned down a battlefield commission to 2nd Lieutenant.
Archer: Well, after "Class Flirt," I mean...
Malory: Omaha Beach by way of North Africa and Sicily. And after Normandy, through France and Belgium all the way to Berlin.
Archer: Well I had to get to Berlin, I sent all my clean shirts ahead.
Malory: Mmhmm. Speak any German?
Archer: You know, "Don't shoot," "I surrender," "Hitler's the tops," stuff like that.
Archer: Well, so, um, well, you're the, um singer here.
Lana: Wow, and you must be an old gypsy woman.
Archer: Close, I'm a private investigator. I'm doing some work for your boss.
Lana: And apparently doing it with a fresh new take on the word, "private."
Krieger: Plus tip.
Archer: How about the tip of my cock.
Kriger: In that scenario, would I take your penis in my hand, in my mouth...
Archer: Asshole. Wait - no, I mean, not - Goddammit!!
Lana: What sort of daily expenses does a semi-private investigator incur?
Archer: Or, I don't know, maybe a surf and turf dinner at the Polo Lounge?
Archer: And then maybe a room upstairs at the Beverly Hills hotel?
Archer: And then, maybe...
Lana: I'm gonna leave you here. Between hope and despair.
Pam: Everything is my business.
Archer: Oh, including white slavery?
Archer: Those girls are tied up, asshole.
Pam: No they're not, they're just...aww dog dicks.
Archer: Yeah, so...
Pam: Uhhh, wouldn't it be "yellow slavery?"
Archer: (gasps in disbelief) Uh, I don't know, racist!
Pam: White slavery is just as racist!
Pam: Nooo, you know, if you differentiate between cotton-picking slavery-
Archer: Jesus Christ!
Pam: -and then white slavery then that's-
Archer: SEXUAL slavery, then.
Pam: My point is I think we're both anti-slavery.