Veronica Kirk: Old ladies and little children. No one believes us. They accuse us of having active imaginations, as though that were some sort of a curse. It's our active imaginations that allow us to see the truth, vividly.
[Laura and Remington have brought Veronica home]
Mickey Prentice: Ronnie.
Veronica Kirk: Oh!
Mickey Prentice: Thank God you're all right...
Veronica Kirk: Oh, it was the skull-faced reaper, Mick. I felt him at my shoulder, his razor scythe glinting in the moonlight, and his rancid breath hot on my neck.
Mickey Prentice: I won't let him have you, Ronnie. I'll never let him have you.
Veronica Kirk: Oh, such a dear fool you are.
[touches Mickey's cheek]
Veronica Kirk: A dear, sweet fool.
[Mickey and Veronica walk towards the house]
Laura Holt: A skull-faced reaper with hot rancid breath, eh?
Remington Steele: Oh, a bit colorful perhaps but, then, drama was her life.
Laura Holt: Still is.
Dr. Dudworth: [speaking to another doctor] I don't like putting your psychopaths in with Schwartz's schizophrenics either, but Maxwell is up to his armpits in manic-depressives and Nordov's neurotics are compensating all over the place.
Bernice Foxe: [eyes Steele's attire] Look at you. This is new, isn't it? What a fabulous color for you.
Remington Steele: Let me guess Miss Wolfe: Laura's in my office interviewing a prospective client and you've been posted here to prevent me from joining them.
Bernice Foxe: Laid it on a bit thick did I?
Remington Steele: With a trowel I'm afraid.
Bernice Foxe: Look, just this once couldn't you let me win?
Remington Steele: What? And ruin our perfect record?