"I'll name me... Joan!"

Tabula Rasa

Buffy on Spike: If I were to stop saving his life, it would simple things up so much.

Anya: Do you think she ... walked around on clouds, wearing, like, Birkenstocks and played a harp? 'Cause those are just not flattering. You know, the clonky sandals, not a harp. I mean, who... doesn't look good with a harp?

Tara: You did it the way you're doing everything. When things get rough, you ... you don't even consider the options. You just ... you just do a spell. It's not good for you, Willow. And it's not what magic is for.
Willow: But I ... I just wanna help people.
Tara: Maybe that's how it started, but you're helping yourself now, fixing things to your liking. Including me.

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

Giles: Magic! 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? And a man. With glasses. Well, that narrows it down considerably.

Giles: We'll all 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, bollocks, 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: (to Spike) And you do inspire a particular feeling of... familiarity and... disappointment. Older brother?
Spike: Father. Oh, God, how I must hate you.

Spike, finding a label on the inside of his suit jacket: '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!

Dawn: You want me to name you?
Buffy: Oh, that's sweet, but I think I can name myself. I'll name me ... Joan.

Buffy: Monsters are real. Did we know this?

Willow: What did you just do?
Buffy: Uh ... I... I don't know. But it was cool!

Buffy: I think I know why Joan's the boss. I'm like a superhero or something!

Spike: I must be a noble vampire. A good guy. On a mission of redemption. I help the hopeless. I'm a vampire with a soul.
Buffy: A vampire with a soul? Oh my God, how lame is that?

Giles: Clearly that is not a helpful book, darling. Come down, and we will go about fixing this in a sensible fashion!
Anya, who has created a roomful of bunnies: Sensible! You think it's sensible for me to go down into that pit of cotton-top hell, and let them hippity-hop all over my vulnerable flesh?
Giles: Fine, then just stay up there and keep making bunnies! That's a capital plan!
Anya: What's 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.

Buffy: Note to self: learn to duck.

Dawn: How are you?
Willow: A little confused. I mean, I'm all sweaty and trapped, no memory, hiding in a pipe from a vampire... And I think I'm kinda gay.

Xander: Sorry, I just got back the memory of seeing King Ralph.