- Ron Swanson: I'd invite you for a drink, but where would we find one here?
- Leslie Knope: Are you kidding? This is London. There's a pub over there, there's a pub over there, and there's a pub between those two butcher shops.
- Ron Swanson: Let's go to that one, but we'll be stopping by those two butcher shops first.
- Ron Swanson: [reading his letter from Leslie] ; Dear Ron, you have now reached the cliff sides overlooking the islands. As you sit here and gaze upon the waters, please read out loud the poem by the great Scottsman Robert Burns. Love, Leslie. "Oh were my love yon lilack fair, with purple blossoms to the Spring, And I, a bird to shelter there, when wearied on my little wing. How I would mourn when it was torn, by autumn wild and winter rude, but I would sing on wanton wing, when youthful may its bloom renewed."
- [starts tearing up]
- Ron Swanson: . I don't know what she thought I would get out of that.
- Tom Haverford: Your son, he's my best friend, he's like a brother to me, but he's a disaster. And your daughter, she needs to be put in a mental institution. On an island. In space.
- Ron Swanson: I thought you needed some air, even if that air is fouled by the stench of European socialism.