Everybody remember where we parked.
Diamonds. The hardest known substance. Impelled by sufficient force, they would make formidable projectiles.
Enjoy your shore leave, Captain.
Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood clean from my hands?
Worf: -ROARS- That is how the Klingon lures a mate.
Wesley: Are you telling me to yell at Salia?
Worf: No. Men do not roar. Women roar. And they hurl heavy objects… And claw at you…
Wesley: What does the man do?
Worf: He reads love poetry. He ducks a lot.
Fire at will!
She walks in beauty, like the night.
Human females are so repulsive!
Gracie is pregnant.
I will feed him.
The joys of love made her human, and the agonies of love destroyed her.
SPOCK: Computers make excellent and efficient servants, but I have no wish to serve under them.
[There are so many pages to look through, I’m not sure what has already been said.]
It’s random. No need to worry about repetition.
The women!
[OK, the pilot it is…]
You want me to test my theory out on your head?
A hunch, Captain?
Poetry, Captain? Non-regulation.
Non-sequitur. Your facts are uncoordinated.
“He will need to be fed once a day. He prefers Feline Supplement Number 25… And he will require water. And you must provide him with a sandbox. And you must talk to him. Tell him he is a pretty cat. And a good cat.”
With… all due respect…
BE GONE!
…sir.
I will FEED him.