Why do guys insist on wearing those odious jeans with their rear ends hanging down around their ankles? Do they really think it's hot?

T.C.: Um, actually you just said "I live in a parking lot." You didn't mean to do that. Lori: You've never seen traffic on Concord Street at eight o'clock in the morning.

It doesn't matter what people thinks of you as long as you know that your heart and head are in the right place.

My waist is a 30. The jeans are a 28. When I fart, the Reeboks blow off.

. . . it's not just the people we love, but the people we let love us back who show us how high we can really soar.

Ale: Are you manipulating me again? T.C.: Try not to fall for it. I dare you.

Papa, I'm ashamed that you think women are so simple. We can make decisions for ourselves too, you know. I'm not a child or a baby anymore, so I'm allowed to speak my mind. And if you don't wish to hear it, just tell me so and I'll go into another room-but I'll speak it anyway. I want this for myself as much as I've never wanted the diplomatic corps and I'm going to get it-even if I have to do it alone. Excuse me.