Amy: Whee! Ooh, finally someone found second base.

(Amy & Sheldon are awkwardly cuddling.)
Amy: I'm just saying, second base is right there.

Amy: Sheldon, I'm going to ask you something, and Id like you to keep an open mind. Sheldon: Always.
Amy: At this moment, I find myself craving human intimacy and physical contact.
Sheldon: Oh, boy. You know ours is a relationship of the mind.
Amy: Proposal, one wild night of torrid lovemaking that soothes my soul and inflames my loins.
Sheldon: Counterproposal, I will gently stroke your head and repeat "Aww, who's a good Amy?"
Amy: How about this? French kissing, seven minutes in heaven culminating in second base.
Sheldon: Neck massage, then you get me that beverage.
Amy: We cuddle. Final offer.
Sheldon: Very well. Oh, boy.

Sheldon: I can't seem to get in touch with Amy. I tried e-mail, video chat, tweeting her, posting on her Facebook wall,texting her, nothing.
Leonard: Did you try calling her on the telephone?
Sheldon: The telephone. You know, Leonard, in your own simple way, you may be the wisest of us all.

Leonard: Come on, she's your friend. Step up! [Knock * 3] Amy. [Knock * 3] Amy. [Knock * 3] Amy. (Turns to leave) Bye!
Sheldon: Where are you going?
Leonard: I'm single, I don't need this crap.

Sheldon: New topic: women. Delightfully mysterious or bat-crap crazy?

Amy: (To sheldon) Hey, cuddles.
Leonard: Cuddles?
Sheldon: Yes, "cuddles". We cuddled. Grow up, Leonard.

Bernadette: It would mean so much if you would be the maid of honor at my wedding.
Amy: What? Wait is this some kind of practical joke? Like in Norway when my "friends" trapped me in a sauna with a horny otter?

Penny: So, Bernadette, how goes the hunt for bridesmaid dresses?
Bernadette: Well, if you dont mind looking like an orange traffic cone, great.

Amy: Girlfriends, I have the answer to our dress problems.
Bernadette: Really?
Amy: Twelve years ago, my cousin Irene and her entire family died in a horrific carbon monoxide accident the night before her wedding.
Bernadette: That's horrible.
Amy: Yes and no. All those bridesmaids dresses remain unused and available to us for free. So it seems that cloud of odourless deadly gas had a silver lining after all. Check it out, still in the bags. The gowns, not the bridesmaids.

Bernadette: I dont know. Dead people's dresses?
Penny: Yeah, and cap sleeves?
Amy: I was hoping you wouldn't notice. Irene was always a slave to a good bargain when it came to clothes, and sadly as it turned out, space heaters.

Sheldon: Ladies, please. These four walls once housed an intellectual salon where the mind received nourishment as well as the stomach. But through no one's fault, Penny, the quality of dinner conversation in this apartment has declined. And again, I'm looking at no one in particular, Penny.
Leonard: Fine. What would you like to talk about, Sheldon?
Howard: "What would you like to talk about, Sheldon?" Why do you hate us?
Sheldon: I've prepared a number of topics that should appeal to both the advanced and novice conversationalists.
Penny: Okay, that time you looked at me.

Sheldon: Topic one. Faster-than-light particles at CERN, paradigm-shifting discovery or another Swiss export as full of holes as their cheese? And converse.

Leonard: Hey, Amy, what brings you to our neck of the woods?
Amy: Your neurology department loaned me a culture of prions for my research on bovine spongiform encephalopathy.
Sheldon: She popped by to borrow a cup of mad cow disease.
Amy: It's hard to make degenerative brain maladies hilarious, and yet somehow you do it.

Howard: Can we get that off the table and change the subject?
Sheldon: Can we? Stand back while I turn this conversation into a conver-sensation.
Leonard: This time, it's your fault.
Sheldon: I have 100 alphabetized topics from "Artichoke, come on, people, it's just a giant thistle" to "ZZZ, the onamona-poetry of sleep".