It takes 42 muscles to smile. Instead pick up your middle finger and say "bite me!

What are you? (a Daimon) Oh please, let me give you the job description. Me, Dark-Hunter. You, Daimon. I hit, you bleed. I kill, you die. (Zarek)

Works for me. For the ones we love, today we’re allies. Tomorrow we resume our natural order of mortal enemies. Gentlemen, and I use that term loosely for all of us, have we an accord? (Acheron)

I swear if that's a pair of demon horns digging into my belly and stabbing me right now, Ash, I'm going to beat you after it's born." 'Cause face it, horns on the head didn't come from my side of the family or genetic code.

We never let our people just go. (Joe) What are you? Wolfram and Hart? (Steele) Oh, no, sweetie, they just take your soul for service. We intend to take even more than that. (Tee)

I can’t touch him. (Jared) Well, don’t you suck. (Stryker) Oh, believe me, I couldn’t agree more. Just be grateful it’s not contagious. (Jared)

May the gods have mercy on whoever pisses them off, because Zarek and Jericho will have none for them. (Madoc) You’d better be glad I’m flattered by that. Otherwise I’d gut you. (Zarek) Ditto. (Jericho)