Sheldon: Would you like some aloe vera? 'cause you just got burned.

Leonard: Where'd you get a beer?
Raj: From that happy young couple over there with all the tattoos. Beautiful story. They're in rival drug gangs, and they're getting married. Shh, no one can know.

Raj: I keep telling you, if I wasn't an astrophysicist, I would have been a party planner. It was always a coin flip.

Sheldon: For example, this morning I was calculating the random motion of virtual particles in a vacuum, when suddenly the particles morphed into an image of Amy's dandruff gently cascading down onto her pale, slightly hunched shoulders. Oh, what has that vixen done to me, Leonard? And how do I make it stop?

Sheldon: Ah, much better.
Leonard: You must be burning up.
Sheldon: A little. But not more than your urethras will be after whatever's in those pants swims up them.

Sheldon: I assume we're talking about you now?
Leonard: Yeah.
Sheldon: So that's how this works, I complain and then you complain and no one offers any solutions?
Leonard: Pretty much.
Sheldon: Well no wonder the women are winning.

Sheldon: Well, I cut quite the dashing, yet hygienic figure, don't I? I look like the Flash about to get married.

Mike Rostenkowski: Last murder case before I retired. How many bodies do you see there? Careful, i's a trick question.
Howard: Im not sure.
Mike Rostenkowski: Nah, you'll never get it. It's a fraction.

Mr. Rostenkowski: Walnut?
Howard: No, thank you. I'm allergic.
Mr. Rostenkowski: Oh, sure. My partner used to have that. He's dead now.
Howard: From nuts?
Mr. Rostenkowski: Nah, his wife shot him. But she was nuts, so in a way.

Mr. Rostenkowski: It's gonna be okay, son.
Howard: You really think so?
Mr. Rostenkowski: Of course. A pretty girl like Bernadette, she'll find a new guy.

Amy: Oh, I know. I think it will go nicely with what I have prepared for dinner.
Sheldon: Spaghetti with little pieces of hot dog cut up in it!
Amy: Just like your mommy used to make.
Sheldon: Oh yummy, yummy! We should do this more often. Uh-oh.

Amy: We'll see. Let's start with a little romantic dinner music, shall we?
Sheldon: Super Mario Bros. theme?
Amy: Yes.
Sheldon: I see what you're doing. You're attempting to build on the work of Ebbinghaus by triggering an involuntary memory of me playing that game, admittedly the happiest 600 hours of my childhood, but it won't work.

Sheldon: Oh! A tissue! A tissue! Oh, good Lord!
Assistant: Uh, where's he going?
Leonard: He keeps emergency Purell in the car.
Sheldon: Keys! Keys! Keys!

Amy: Human beings form emotional attachments as they grow up. In your case, to your mother, superheroes, et cetera. I'm going to attempt an experiment that will get you to transfer those feelings to me.
Sheldon: Well, it seems what's on the menu tonight is malarkey with a big side of poppycock.

Sheldon: Leonard, these rental tuxedos have been worn by hundreds of sweaty strangers. I don't like my own sweat touching my skin. How do you think I feel about theirs?