Peter Tork: Let me tell you one thing son. Nobody ever lends money to a man with a sense of humor.
Micky Dolenz: We told you a hundred times, good officer, sir. We last saw him inside the john... er... comfort room.
Mike: [ordering at the studio commissary] I'll have a finger sandwich, hold the mold.
Davy Jones: And, uh, I'd like a glass of cold gravy with a hair in it, please.
Mrs Ace: [sarcastically] One of your own?
Peter: We were talking with the Master regarding the nature of conceptual reality. Psychologically speaking, the human mind, or brain or whatever, is almost incapable of distinguishing between the real and the vividly imagined experience. Sound and film and music and radio. Even these manipulative experiences are received more or less directly and uninterpretive by the mind. They are cataloged and recorded and either acted upon directly, or stored in the memory, or both. Now this process, unless we pay it tremendous attention, begins to separate us from the reality of the now. Am I being clear? For we must allow the reality of the now to just happen, as it happens. Observe and act with clarity. For where there is clarity, there is no choice. And were there is choice, there is misery. But then, why should I speak, since I know nothing?
Davy: Wait! Don't move! I wanna forget you just as you are!
Davy: [choosing Sonny Liston to box against] Great, I'll have a go at him. You won't hurt my face, will ya? Million dollar head, this.
Testy True: [holding out her snakebitten finger] Quick! Suck it before the venom reaches my heart.
Mike: WHAT heart?
Swami: We were speaking of belief; beliefs and conditioning. All belief possibly could be said to be the result of some conditioning. Thus, the study of history is simply the study of one system of beliefs deposing another, and so on and so on and so on... A psychologically tested belief of our time is that the central nervous system, which feeds it's impulses directly to the brain, the conscious and subconscious, is unable to discern between the real, and the vividly imagined experience. If there is a difference, and most of us believe there is - am I being clear? For to examine these concepts requires tremendous energy and discipline. To allow the unknown to occur and to occur, requires clarity. And where there is clarity there is no choice. And where there is choice, there is misery. But then, why should anyone listen to me? Why should I speak, since I know nothing?
Extra: Hows about some more steam?
Inspector Shrink: The tragedy of *your* time, my young friends, is that you may get exactly what you want.
Davy: Psst! Hey, c'mere. Now this is serious. What ya say, you and me, go someplace where we wont bump into each other again?
Peter: MICKY! Micky! Micky! I'm the dummy, Micky. I'm always the dummy.
Micky Dolenz: You're right, Pete. You're always the dummy. I forgot. I'm sorry. Sorry. You're always the dummy, Pete. I'm sorry, sorry...
Mrs Ace: Well, if it isn't God's gift to the eight-year-olds.
Micky's conscience: Pathetic!
Micky Dolenz: I can't...
Micky's conscience: It's pitiful!
Micky Dolenz: Shut up.
Micky's conscience: You shut up.
Micky Dolenz: No, YOU shut up!
Micky's conscience: YOU shut up!
Micky Dolenz: Shut up!
Micky's conscience: You!
Micky Dolenz: [completely losing his temper] SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUPYOOOOUUUUU!
Micky's conscience: Okay, I will.
Peter Tork: Everybody's where they wanna be.
Micky Dolenz: That is a particularly inept thing to say, Peter, considering that we are in a vacuum cleaner.
Voice in the desert: Quiet, isn't it, George Michael Dolenz? I SAID: QUIET, ISN'T IT, George Michael Dolenz!
Mike: [grabbing Micky, as Davy struggles in the boxing ring] YOU are the dummy, dummy!
Cow: Monkees is da cwaziest people!
Mrs Ace: [patronizing Micky] Are you still paying tribute to Ringo Starr?
Mickey Dolenz: Would you like a pinch in the mouth?
Mrs Ace: I'll think about it.
Mickey Dolenz: Don't hurt yourself.
Interviewee: Are you telling me that you don't see the connection between government and laughing at people?
Lord High'N'Low: "Boys, don't never, but never, make fun of no cripple!"
Lord High'N'Low: Hey! Nobody walks out on me! Not even myself!
Peter: It's all right, Davy, there's nothing wrong.
Davy: Nothing wrong, huh?
Peter: That's right, I came here to tell you, man, that everything...
Davy: You know what I saw in there?
Davy: An eye, man, an eye, this big, blood red, it was as clear as the nose on your face, it was looking at me.
Peter: Peace, David, I know.
Peter Tork: Hey, Mike, son of a gun, a millionaire at 25.
Mike: Ask me how does it feel.
Peter Tork: What?
Mike: Ask me how does it feel.
Peter Tork: How does it feel?
Mike: I'll tell you how it feels. I don't like it, that's how it feels! I don't like surprises, I don't like all these people jumping around and shouting, wha - I don't even wanna HEAR what you're saying! Because you know what you're saying to me? You're saying "Happy Birthday" and you're jumping out of the walls and it's scaring me to death, and I'm supposed to be HAPPY about that.
Micky Dolenz: Aww, come on, Mike. Be a good sport.
Mike: Well, WHO NEEDS IT? Who needs surprises, and pajamas. You want to throw a birthday party, you don't kidnap me, you send me an invitation. Besides, I probably would have been happier where I was, sleeping. 'Happy birthday'... HAH!
[embarrassed murmer from party guests]
Mike: And I'll tell you something else too: the same thing goes for Christmas.
[shocked gasps from the guests]
Mike: Well, how 'bout THEM apples!
Mike: [Mike holds an enormous marijuana cigarette stub he has just found and laughs] This is not one of your standard brands.
Micky Dolenz: Oh, an El Zoomo!
Mike: What's the matter with her?
Micky Dolenz: [Micky begins kicking a prostrate, apparently dead Testy] Come on, get up.
Testy True: Hey, what is this?
Micky Dolenz: Come on, get up, you're not dead.
Testy True: Well, stop kicking me!
Micky Dolenz: Aw, I don't wanna do this anymore, man.
[He is shot in the stomach with two arrows, which he ignores]
Micky Dolenz: All these fake arrows and the fake trees. Bob, I'm through!
Mike: Hey... well, Mickey...
Micky Dolenz: Let's get going, man.
[Grumbles to himself as he tears a hole in the painted backdrop and walks off the set through it]
The Jumper: [Threatening to jump off a tall building] I'm gonna do it! I'm gonna do it! I swear I'm gonna do it!
Micky Dolenz: I say she won't.
Mike: Of course she will! Ten dollars says she will.
Micky Dolenz: Ten dollars, huh?
The Jumper: I'm gonna do it!
Davy Jones: [The Monkees are in a trench in a W.W. II movie] I can't see it's too deep!
Mike Nesmith: What you say?
Mike Nesmith: I said I can't see, it's too deep. I need another boost or something.
Micky Dolenz: Here, you can stand on my helmet. It's too heavy, I don't want to wear it, it's a drag, it presses down on my head.
Peter Tork: You really ought to wear your helmet.
Mike: Okay. You think they call us plastic now, babe, but wait 'til I get through telling them how we do it.
Micky Dolenz: C'mon let's get outta this nightclub!
Mrs Ace: But what about the food?
Mike: Have it cleaned and burned!
Heraldic Messenger: [Peter opens the door to find a heraldic messenger holding a pretty girl on a chain] Oh, oh, dear, I got a wire for a Monkee.
Peter: Thank you.
Heraldic Messenger: It's a, it was nothing.
Peter: Oh, I wouldn't say that. We all have loved ones, you know.
[the heraldic messenger cackles as he leads the pretty girl away on her chain]