Whoever he is, he sure talks gloomy.
I got to hold a heart!
CHAPEL: Mister Spock’s blood reproduction rate is up over two hundred percent. Sarek’s heartbeat has risen to three hundred and twenty four. Blood pressure ninety over forty, dropping.
MCCOY: I wish I knew whether that was good or bad.
Chekov, Bones. Let those people go.
Ee’d Plebnista.
qagh Sopbe’
Fizzbin.
Boimler: “Romulan whiskey is against regulations!”
Mariner: “Yeah, because it’s awesome.”
Its…it’s green.
Does it make a good mix with Scotch?
It should.
I’ll let ya know.
You try to cross brains with Spock, he’ll cut you to pieces every time.
I know nothing about a brain.
It’s called multi-tasking, people. They do it on the Enterprise all the time!
Oh, well, now. Aren’t you contentious for a minor bipedal species?
Your emotions are most discordant. We do not wish to seem inhospitable, but gentlemen, you must leave.
Yes, please leave us. The mere presence of beings like yourselves is intensely painful to us.
When your logic doesn’t work, you raise your voice? You’ve been on Earth too long.
Okeydokey.
We reach, brother!
And you want to be as stupid as them, dear Brother?
So that’s when you hit the Klingons?