Scott McCall: I looked at her, and it was like someone hit me in the ribs with a hammer.
Stiles: Yeah it's called heartbreak. About two billion songs written about it.
Stiles: [Drunk] Dude, y'know, she's just one, one girl out of so many. There's so many other girls in the sea.
Scott McCall: Fish in the sea.
Stiles: Fish? Why are you talking about fish? I'm talking about girls. I love girls, I love them. I love- Especially ones with strawberry-blonde hair, green eyes, five-foot-three...
Scott McCall: Like Lydia?
Stiles: Yeah, exactly! Hey, how did you know I was talking about?
Coach Bobby Finstock: All right, geniuses, listen up. Due to the recent pink eye epidemic - Thank you, Greenberg - the following people have made first line on a probationary basis, emphasis on the word "probationary." Rodriguez. Welcome to first line. Taylor, and, uh - Oh, for the love of crap. I can't even read my own writing. What is that, an "s"? No, no, that's not an "s." That's a - that's a - That's a "b." It's definitely a "b." Uh, Rodriguez, Taylor, and, uh - Bilinski.
Stiles: [Cheers] Whooo!
Coach Bobby Finstock: Bilinski!
Coach Bobby Finstock: Shut up!
Scott McCall: Stiles.
Stiles: It's Biles. Call me Biles, or I swear to God I'll kill you.
Stiles: You got this kinda serial-killer look going on in your eyes, and I'm hoping it's the full moon.
Stiles: In a general, broad sense, can you determine sexual desire?
Scott McCall: From Lydia to you.
Stiles: Fine, yes, from Lydia to me! Look, I need to know if I have a chance with this girl; I've been obsessing over her since third-freaking-grade.
Scott McCall: Why don't you just ask her?
Stiles: To save myself utterly crushing humiliation, thank you, Scott. Okay, so can you just go up and ask her if she likes me? See if her heartbeat rises or pheromones comes out.
Scott McCall: FINE.
Stiles: I love you, I love you! You're my best friend in the whole world!
Mr. Harris: You have 45 minutes to complete the test. 25% of your grade can be earned right now simply by writing your name on the cover of the blue book. However, as happens every year, one of you will inexplicably fail to put your name on the cover, and I'll be left yet again questioning my decision to ever become a teacher.
Mrs. Victoria Argent: You find him, you kill him, you cut him in half. Anybody want a cookie?
Stiles: You were having a panic attack, but thinking you were having an asthma attack actually stopped the panic attack: irony... I used to get them after my mom died. Not fun.
Allison Argent: It's not like I don't realize we're not exactly the most normal family on the block. I mean, not every teenage girl comes home to a garage full of glocks and AK-47s.
Kate Argent: So, Chris...
Argent: Don't. Just - Your look communicates it perfectly. Yes, I underestimated the danger. Yes, we should've acted sooner. Yes, I should've listened to you. Anything else? Or does that cover it?
Kate Argent: All I was going to say is you need to stop and get some gas.
Allison Argent: Lydia, do you think I made the wrong decision?
Lydia Martin: About that jacket with that dress? Absolutely.
Allison Argent: You know what I mean.
Lydia Martin: Hello? Scott locked us in a classroom and left us for dead. He's lucky we're not pressing charges or making him pay our therapy bills.