Tara: It's sorbis root. It was supposed to confuse him, but it just kind of made him peppy. It's not supposed to mix with anything - do you think he might be taking prescription medication?
Spike: Yeah, that MUST be it.
Giles: Good god, I hope he doesn't try to operate heavy machinery.

Giles: You might have let me in on your plan while he throttled me.
Spike: Oh, poor Watcher. Did your life pass before your eyes? Cup of tea, cup of tea, almost got shagged, cup of tea?

Anya: You're taking the Ramadan effigy?
Giles: It's not inventory, it's my personal collection.
Anya: Uh-huh. Aren't you Mr. dicey semantics?

Yes, I was a perfect Watcher. I did what any good Watcher would do - got my Slayer killed in the line of duty.

Willow: Well, you should get going. Don't you have a life or something?
Giles: I suppose that's the question, really.

Flooded

Oh God, Buffy! (hugs her) You're alive. You're here. ...And you're still remarkably strong.

Giles: You're...
Buffy: ...a miracle.
Giles: Yes. ...But then I always thought so.

Giles: I keep a flat in Bath. I met with a few old friends. Almost made a new one, which I think is statistically impossible for a man of my age....
Buffy: And now you're back.
Giles: Yes.
Buffy: Wow. Giles, are you miserable about it, or just really British?

Anya: Giles! We're so glad to see you! We missed you! You can't have the store back.
Giles: I know.
Anya: You signed papers!
Giles: I did. Do we have information on this new demon I suddenly find so desperately interesting?

Giles: M'Fashnik, oh.
Dawn: Ah ha! Like 'Mmm-cookies!'
Giles: Ah, no, quite different actually.

Buffy: I know they're so cute you could die, but it's all I've got.
Giles: Think nothing of it. It's...uh... whimsical.

Giles: So, tell me about the spell you performed.
Willow: Oh, first of all? *So* scary! I mean the Blair Witch would have had to watch like this! (peeks between fingers) And this giant snake came out of my mouth. And there was all this energy crackling. And this pack of demons interrupted, but I *totally* kept it together. And then, next thing you know -- Buffy!
Giles: You're a very stupid girl.

Willow: Giles, I did what I had to do! I did what nobody else could do!
Giles: Oh, there are others in this world who can do what you did. You just don't want to meet them.
Willow: No, probably not. But, well, they're the bad guys. I'm not a bad guy!

Giles: You were *lucky*!
Willow: I wasn't lucky, I was *amazing*! And how would you know? You weren't even there!
Giles: If I were I would have bloody well stopped you! The magics you channeled are more ferocious and primal than anything you could hope to understand, and you are lucky to be alive! You rank, arrogant amateur!
Willow: You're right. The magics I used are very powerful. *I'm* very powerful. And maybe it's not such a good idea for you to piss me off.

Giles: Dawn? Couldn't sleep?
Dawn: Not really. You?
Giles: Evidently not.
Dawn: You ever try mixing parts of every cereal you've got in one bowl?
Giles: Does it work?
Dawn: Gonna find out. Want to come join the experiment?
Giles: Why don't I be your control group. You find as you get older that you lose patience with throwing up.

Giles: Well I know I'm back in America now, I've been knocked unconscious.
Buffy: Mmmm... Poor lumpy Giles!

Dawn: I bet it's creditors. The hounding's begun. I read about it. So, you think we'll starve?
Giles: I very much doubt it.
Dawn: No chance I'd have to quit school to work assembling cheap toys in a poorly-ventilated sweatshop?
Giles: 'Poorly-ventilated sw...' What *have* you been reading?

Buffy: You already ate.
Giles: No! ... Well, yes. Obviously.

Buffy: Yes! And then I'm going to marry Bob Dole and raise penguins in Guam!
Giles: Yes...um...quite right....

Giles: Are you o.k.?
Buffy: I think at one point I actually turned inside out ...but yeah.

Giles: You're pushing yourself too hard.
Buffy: The nice people at the phone company seem to think it's not hard enough.

Giles: This is for you.
Buffy: A check? Th-this is too much. I can't take it.
Giles: Well, I'll tear it up....
Buffy: No! I was just being polite. I'm taking the money.

Buffy: I don't really know to say this, but it's a little like having mom back.
Giles: In this scenario I'm your mother.
Buffy: Want to be my shiftless absentee father?
Giles: Is there some sort of, um, rakish uncle?

Buffy: What happened to Xander?
Giles: He kept poking me with his hook. I sent him over to charmed objects. With any luck, he'll poke the wrong one and end up in an alternative dimension inhabited by a 50-foot Giles that squishes annoying, teeny pirates.

Buffy: Yeah, what about costumes that take over you personality, or wee, little Irish fear-demony thingies?
Giles: Yes, well, if anything calamitous should happen, history suggests it will happen to one of us.

Giles: Brooms all around then.
Willow: Or I could whip up a jaunty self-cleaning incantation. It'll be like "Fantasia".
Giles: And we all know how splendidly that turned out for Mickey.
Willow: I think I'm a little more adept than a cartoon mouse.
Tara: And you have more fingers, which is good 'cause then there's no need to wear those big white gloves to over-compensate.

Buffy: Did you know about this?
Giles: No. Unless I blocked it from my memory, much as I will Xander's vigorous use of his tongue.
Buffy: Is that why you're always cleaning your glasses? So you don't have to see what we're doing?
Giles: Tell no one.

Anya's a wonderful former vengeance demon. I'm sure you'll spend many years of non-hell dimensional bliss.

Mist. Cemetery. Halloween. Should end well.

Zach: What do you know about it, Grandpa?
Giles: Quite a bit, actually.

Justin: It'll only hurt for a second.
Giles: I bet you say that to all the girls.

Giles: Now, you have a choice, son. We can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard--
Justin: What were my choices again?

Buffy: How's your face?
Giles: Oh, still ruggedly handsome. Grandpa, indeed. Ow.

Giles: Something needs to be done before it spins out of control.
Buffy: You're right. I'm glad you're here to take care of it. Don't be too hard on her, okay?

Dawn: This the part where you tell me you're not angry, just disappointed?
Giles: Pretty much, except for the bit about not being angry.

Buffy: So did anybody... last night, you know, did anybody, um... burst into song?
Xander: Merciful Zeus!
Willow: We thought it was just us!
(all speaking at once)
Giles: Well, I sang, but I had my guitar at the hotel. That would explain the huge backing orchestra I couldn't see, and the synchronized dancing from the room-service chaps.

Tara: That's right! The volume. The text.
Giles: What text?
Willow: The volume-y text.

Well, I'm a hair's-breadth from investigating bunnies at the moment, so I'm open to anything.

I was able to examine the body while police were taking witness arias.

Buffy: I'm just worried this whole session's going to turn into some training montage from an 80's movie.
Giles: Well, if we hear any inspirational power chords, we'll just lie down until they go away.

If I want your opinion, Spike, I'll... I'll never want your opinion.

Buffy: What do you expect me to do?
Giles: Your best.

Giles: If it was in the shop, then one of us probably...
(Xander raised his hand)
Anya: Xander!
Xander: Well, I didn't know what was gonna happen! I just thought there was gonna be dances and songs.

Dawn: So what do we got?
Giles: Sorry?
Dawn: What kind of oogly-booglies? Lizardy types, or zombies, or vampires, or what?
Giles: There are no oogly-booglies, Dawn.

Giles: Well, maybe we all got terribly drunk and this is some sort of blackout.
Dawn: I don't think I drink.
Anya: I don't see any booze. I don't feel any head bumps. I don't see Allen Funt.

Buffy: Maybe something magic happened.
Giles: Magic? (scoffs) Magic's all balderdash and chicanery.

I'm afraid we don't know a bloody thing... except I seem to be British, don't I? Oh, and a man. With glasses. Well, that narrows it down considerably.

Giles: We'll get our memory back and it'll all be right as rain.
Spike: Oh, listen to Mary Poppins. He's got his crust all stiff and upper with that nancy-boy accent. You Englishmen are always so... Bloody hell. Sodding, blimey, shagging, knickers, bullocks. Oh, god. I'm English.
Giles: Welcome to the nancy-tribe.
Spike: You don't suppose you and I... we're not related, are we?
Anya: There is a ruggedly handsome resemblance.
Giles: And you do inspire a particular feeling of familiarity and disappointment. (indicates self) Older brother?
Spike: (snickers) Father. Oh god, how I must hate you.
Giles: What did I do?
Spike: There's always something. And what's with the trollop?
Anya: Hey!
Giles: Her?
Spike: I saw you sleeping together.
Giles: _Resting_ together.

Spike: Oh, great -- a tarty step-mother who's half old Daddy's age.
Anya: Tarty?
Giles: Old?

Spike: Rupert. (laughs)
Giles: You're not too old to put across my knee, you know, sonny.

Giles: Anyway, what did I call you?
Spike: (looks at jacket label) "Made with care for Randy." Randy Giles? Why not just call me "Horny Giles" or "Desperate-for-a-shag Giles"? I knew there was a reason I hated you.

Giles: This is our magic shop? Well, that's very, um, progressive of me.

Vamp: Send out Spike.
Giles: They seem to want spikes.
Spike: Oh! (gets stakes) Let's give 'em these.

Buffy: Ready, Randy?
Spike: Ready, Joan.
Giles: Oh, son? Come here, um, please.
(awkward hug)
Buffy: Right.
Giles: Good, then.

Giles: Which book shall we start with?
Anya: This is the book for us.
Giles: Oh, good. Does it focus on mind control or memory loss?
Anya: Not exactly. I just, um, my intuition tells me this is the book, and I figure, being a magic shop owner, and a natural at the supernatural, I should trust my intuition.
Giles: That's true. But as you recall, I, too, am a magic shop owner.
Anya: True. But my intuition says that you're not so much the magic guy and more of a paperwork type. Okay, here we go. (opens book at random)
Giles: But you don't even know...
Anya: "Bare bare himble gemination."
(rabbit pops into existence)
Anya: (screams)

Giles: Perhaps we should try another book?
Anya: No. This book made the little fluffers, this book's gonna send them back. I've got it this time. Okay, "Himble abri. Abri voyon."
(another bunny pops into existence)
Giles: Yes, dear.

Giles: Clearly, that is not a helpful book, darling. Come down and we'll go about fixing this in a sensible fashion.
Anya: Sensible? You think it's sensible for me to go down into that pit of cotton-top hell, and let them hippety-hop all over my vulnerable flesh?

Giles: Well fine, then just stay up there and keep making bunnies. It's a capital plan.
Anya: What capital? I never know what you're talking about. Loo, shag, brolly, what the hell is all that?
Giles: What? There's no way that you could remember me saying any of those words.
Anya: Oh, bugger off, you brolly.

Get a different book! Put that book down, do you hear! Not.. that... book!

Giles: Look what you've done, you lunatic woman!
Anya: Don't blame me, you snobby, snotty, thinks-he's-so-great kind of jerk... and I feel compelled to take some vengeance on you! (hits him with book)
Giles: Ow! God, no wonder I'm leaving you.

Giles: I'm so sorry, dear.
Anya: No, Rupy, I'm sorry. You were right. That was the wrong book.

Anya: Don't leave me.
Giles: Oh, Anya. (they kiss)

Giles: Well, this place certainly needs a good tidying.
Anya: Oh, yes. Yes. Yes.