Who ya gonna call?
Doctor who???
Dammit, Jim! I’m a doctor, not a botanist / historian / engineer / physicist / bartender / bricklayer / zoo keeper / coal miner / mechanic / etc.!
(You didn’t specify my favorite: “I’m a doctor, not an escalator.”)
In play: Of all the medical services on Hospital Earth, none had the power of the Black Service of Pathology.
Let them come! Prepare the ion cannon! First we will destroy the medical station. Then we will finish off Skywalker.
The second best thing about space travel is that the distances involved make war very difficult, usually impractical, and almost always unnecessary.
Let’s fly away and live forever.
Mr. LaForge, why won’t my ship go?
“It’s pining for the fjords.”
Okay, not strictly SF, but I couldn’t resist.
“I care about lots of things,” said Slartibartfast, his voice trembling partly with annoyance, but partly also with uncertainty.
“Such as?”
“Well,” said the old man, “life, the Universe. Everything, really. Fjords.”
“Would you die for them?”
“Fjords?” blinked Slartibartfast in surprise. “No.”
“Well then.”
"Wouldn’t see the point, to be honest.”
How to explain? How to describe? Even the omniscient viewpoint quails.
That’s what happens when you leave a potato in the microwave!
It smells–but I think I can use it.
I recognized your foul stench when I was brought on board.
“Phewy!” he said presently. “Anyone want to sample some embalmed corned beef hash? Throw it outside, Matt, before it stinks up the place.”
I guess she don’t like the cornbread, either.
Nestor 1: [eating a hot dog for the first time] There’s no dog in this.
Cowboy: Uh-uh.
Nestor 1: Hydrolyzed vegetable protein, soybean meal, niacin, dextrose, and sodium nitrate flavoring.
Cowboy: Yup, that’s what we call “meat” back home.
Hungry? Why, I’m famished! I could suck a waste tube from here to the edge!
M’lord, now, he was very big on getting a good meal on board before making life-or-death decisions, and so was m’lady, come to think.
I could eat a corndog the size of a truck.