Clyde Bruckman: What the hell is Lollapalloza?
Store Clerk: Who's Buddy Holly?
Killer: Don't apologize, you're a better dancer than my last date.
Zelma: Mister, please, you're hurting me.
Killer: I know, I know, but I'm sorry. But you're a fortuneteller. You should have seen this coming.
Det. Cline: So what do they say about the entrails?
Det. Yavez: Yuck.
Mulder: The leaves were telling her she was about to be murdered.
Scully: (to Mulder) I can't take you anywhere.
Mulder: Mr. Yappi, read this thought.
Yappi: (reacting as if hit) So's your old man!
Scully: Sorry about your Negative Energy, Mulder. You missed one hell of a good show.
Young Husband: But this is a really *good* boat.
Young Husband: Mister, you really need to work on your closing technique.
Bruckman: (reacting to Mulder's badge) I'm supposed to believe that's a real name?
Mulder: Pinch me.
Scully: (to Mulder) Oh, so now *you're* psychic?
Scully: (to Mulder) I'm sorry, I didn't mean to give off any negative energy.
Bruckman: Negative energy, what is it?
Bruckman: Oh, sometimes it . . . just seems that everyone's having sex except for me.
Bruckman: You'll find a woman tomorrow morning . . . by the fat little white Nazi stormtrooper at Glenview Lake.
Mulder: Be honest, Scully. Doesn't that propane tank bear more than a slight resemblance to a fat little white Nazi stormtrooper?
Scully: Mulder, the human mind naturally seeks the meaningful patterns and configurations in things that don't inherently have any. Given the suggestion of a particular image, you couldn't help but see that shape somewhere. If that tank weren't there, you'd see it in a . . .in a rock or in a tree.
Mulder: Did you answer my question?
(long pause)
Scully: Yes, it looks like a fat little white Nazi stormtrooper, but that only proves my point.
Mulder: If the future is written, then why bother to do anything?
Bruckman: Now you're catching on.
(Mulder is showing Bruckman objects from the murder scene - this one is a big brass 3-frog thing :)
Mulder: Do you receive any other impressions from it?
Bruckman: It's ugly. (Drops it hard) Next.
Bruckman: I got it. This is yours. This is from your New York Knicks T-shirt!
Mulder: Miss.
Bruckman: This is worse than playing the Lotto.
Bruckman: You know, I can think of more dignified ways to die than auto-erotic asphyxiation.
Mulder: Why you tellin' me that?
Bruckman: I guess I can't see the forest through the trees.
(Mulder gets splattered with mud)
Mulder: I'm glad I could bring a little smile into your life, Mr. Bruckman.
Bruckman: I'm not smiling. I'm wincing.
Scully: So who's it from?
(holds it to his head, Jon Lovitz impression)
Bruckman: The Killer!
Scully: We can't come up with suspects by having visions.
Bruckman: Jealous?
(After hearing that both she and Bruckman would be in bed together)
Scully: Mr. Bruckman, there are hits and there are misses. And then there are MISSES.
Scully: Chantilly Lace?
Mulder: You *know* what I *like*.
Mulder: If my Miss Manners serves me right, that protrusion from his left cornea is a salad fork.
Det. Cline: Yeah, this is more like it. No more psychics and their vague visions and predictions -- Hell, we don't even need our own hunches. This case is now just about good ol' fashioned forensic police work.
Scully: Mulder . . . it's the bellhop! He's the killer. The bellhop at the hotel.
Det. Cline: How the hell did she know that?
Mulder: Women's intuition.
(after being shot by Scully)
Killer: Hey, it's not the way it's supposed to happen.
3x03 3x05
