Chief Inspector Morse: Isn't it your round?
Detective Sergeant Lewis: Do you think another one's a good idea?
Chief Inspector Morse: Think? That's why I want it - to think. I don't drink for pleasure!
[Lewis tells Strange that Morse is a bit grumpy today]
Chief Superintendent Strange: [dryly] No change there, then!
[Morse is exasperated that Dr Hobson can't give a more accurate estimate of time of death]
Chief Inspector Morse: [ironically] Can't you be *less* precise?
[Morse asks Lewis whether he noticed a car following him as he was following the bus with Harry Repp on board]
Detective Sergeant Lewis: Behind me?
Chief Inspector Morse: It's not the pantomime season, Lewis!
[Sir Lionel Phelps boasts about his sex games with Yvonne Harrison]
Chief Inspector Morse: "Kinky rumpy-pumpy" is what my sergeant would call it.
Detective Sergeant Lewis: [shouting at a witness who has said that Morse will help her] Chief Inspector Morse is dead!
[Morse recites Housman's poem "The Remorseful Day" to Lewis as they sit having a drink outside a pub]
Chief Inspector Morse: Ensanguining the skies / How heavily it dies / Into the west away; / Past touch and sight and sound, / Not further to be found, / How hopeless underground / Falls the remorseful day.
Detective Sergeant Lewis: [Seeing a satchel full of money] Well, it's obvious, isn't it? Blackmail!
Chief Inspector Morse: I don't like the obvious.
Detective Sergeant Lewis: Yeah, I know you don't, but sometimes it's, it's just, just - obvious!
Chief Inspector Morse: It's your case, Lewis.
Detective Sergeant Lewis: Yeah, now it is, yeah. Was yours though, wasn't it first off?
Chief Inspector Morse: Strange mentioned that, did he?
Detective Sergeant Lewis: In passing.
Chief Inspector Morse: He didn't say why he took me off it by any chance?
Detective Sergeant Lewis: No. You must have some idea surely, sir.
Chief Inspector Morse: Hunh. Strange by name!