You belong in the circus, Spock, not a starship. Right next to the dog face boy!
Note the sinister eyes, and the malformed ears: definitely an inferior race.
“Is this your crew, Captain?”
“Well, no, Captain. This is me cargo.”
“I’m a doctor, not a bricklayer.”
“You’re a healer. There’s a patient.”
Blast that tin-plated pot!
How about a latinum-plated bucket to sleep in?
The only Klingon I’m afraid of is my wife after she’s worked a double shift.
A Betazoid woman, when she goes through this phase, quadruples her sex drive.
“I read once that a commander has to act like a paragon of virtue. I never met a paragon.”
“Neither have I.”
I think it was the chef, in the biolab, with the sniper rifle that can shoot through walls.
A contract is a contract is a contract, but only between Ferengi.
Then I drive him out to the woods, badda bing, badda bang: three in back of the head, that’s the end of little Paulie.
We ‘hot-wire’ it.
Yes. Oh! I believe they had a device known as a — clutch? — clutch, Captain; perhaps one of those pedals on the floor.
Second star to the right, and straight on til morning.
For all we know, at this very moment, somewhere far beyond all those distant stars, Benny Russell is dreaming of us.
I never fit, y’know?
Plomeek soup, Nurse Chapel?
I found three eggs in it; it was like finding treasure. I cracked one open on the spot and ate it, very much as you just did. I planned to save the other two; they would keep me alive for another week. But, of course, an older boy saw them and wanted them, and he got them. But he had to break my arm to do it.
Augh! I can’t move me legs. I can’t feel me legs! Me back, it’s broken!