Bolton: And now gentlemen, is there one *honest* claim we can make for Ultra?
Pete: Well, we could say they're round.

Pete: Come 'ere! Come 'ere. Look. In this cruddy pile o' junk: a flower. The odds against survival must've been a million to one. But it made it. Couple of drops of rain, and some sun...
Liz: Pete, what's wrong? What's the matter with you?

Pete: Hey listen.
Liz: To what, the traffic?
Pete: Kids laughing.
Liz: You know *why* they're laughing? 'Cause they're not old enough to read the newspaper. You take a look at the front page and then try laughing. The world's a stinking, hopeless mess! Oh, Pete, you're sick.

Amigo: [speech balloon] Oh Boy! Grapes.
Pete: What the hell is that?
Liz: Get a load o' that beak!
Pete: Come on, you. Hey! Hey! Those are *my* grapes.
Liz: Oh, let 'im eat 'em. He's probably hungry.
Pete: Oh sure. Make a pet out of him, get emotionally involved. That what you want?
Liz: I don't care if you have him for breakfast.