Maeby: I'm surprised you tried out for this.
George Michael: Yeah, I just love the theater.
Maeby: That's great. I'm just doing it to kiss Steve Holt.
George Michael: I actually think I'm going to quit. Yeah, theater's dead.
Maeby: But ... he's always going to be at football practice, so I'm going to have to kiss the stand-in.
George Michael: But no ... no. I love the theater, and I gave my word, so I'm back in.

George Michael: So, I quit the play. I don't really like plays. Also, I think your dad thinks I'm gay.
Maeby: Oh, he thinks everyone's gay.

I didn't get into this business to please sophomore Tracy Schwartzman, so ... onward and upward. On ... (crying) Why, Tracy?! Why?!

Tobias

Lindsay: Buster's right. You get off on being withholding.
Lucille: Buster said that? My Buster?
(later)
Lucille: Michael?
Buster: Mom?
Michael: What are you doing here?
Lucille: (to Buster) Oh, hello, Buster. Here's a candy bar. (pulling candy bar away) No. I'm withholding it. Look at me. Getting off!

(While George Michael's making cornballs in the kitchen)
Michael: I shouldn't have poked my nose into your life.
George Michael: My life?
Michael: I know that you're growing up.
George Michael: Yeah, but, Dad, you're like the most important part of my life.
Michael: (looking at the cornball) That's a little cornball.
George Michael: I don't mind.
Michael: I don't mind either.
(Michael musses George Michael's hair and then leans his arm casually onto the edge of the cornballer)
George Michael: Watch it.
Michael: (as cornballer singes his arm) Mother of God! Owww! Every! Damn! Time! Owww! This is a big one!

Tobias: Michael, if I could stick my pretty, little nose in here for one second. When I was a psychiatrist, and this is before I became an actor...
Lindsay: You're still not an actor.
Tobias: Lovely... I saw a lot of this type of behavior, and what I think you're experiencing is your son's very normal need to distance himself from his overbearing father. Am I touching something? Watch this. Maeby, where are you off to in this glorious
(Tobias is inadvertently touching the cornballer)
Tobias: Hot! Hot hot!
Michael: Be careful. Are you okay?
Tobias: (whimpers and grimaces for a few seconds) Hot hot...Now, take my daughter for example. She lives her life, and I get the pleasure of guessing what that mind entailed on. Watch this. Maeby, where are you off to in this glorious Sunday afternoon? (whispers to Michael) She won't tell you.
Maeby: I'm going to audition for a play.
Tobias: Well, that time it didn't work...What?! What play?
Maeby: It's for high school. You can't audition.
Tobias: I was totally wrong! She's reaching out to her actor daddy. DOES ANYONE HAVE AN ICE PACK?!

Michael: (explaining ideas to his associates in a meeting) ...And we're back on track, and we're focused, and ... Buster. (who is assembling the bike) You can't do that in the snack room, pal?
Buster: Mom told me to stay away from microwaves. And besides, this is gonna be the most bitching fast bike in all of Orange County!

Narrator: George Michael's attempt to distance himself from his cousin proved ... unsuccessful.
(George Michael and Maeby are at the banana stand. Maeby dips her hand in the liquid chocolate and then licks her fingers.)
George Michael: I can't tell you how many health codes you're violating right now.

(auditioning) Fire! Fire! Fire! (singing) Amazing grace, how sweet that sound...

Tobias

Michael: So, Mom, I'm trying to find...
Lucille: I don't know where they are.
Michael: ...these flight records. You know, it's really more believable if you let me finish.

Fireman: Somebody wanted this place to go.
Michael: Yeah? What do you mean, arson?
Fireman: Oh, definitely the work of a flamer.

I am having a love affair with this ice cream sandwich.

George Sr.

Arrested Development Season 1 Quotes

Um, I forget their name, but I know they're hungry. I think some are thirsty.

Lindsay

(talking about the money their fund-raiser brought in) Well, most of that money was from the Bluth Company. I mean, how ...
(Michael looks surprised) ... are you?

Tobias