Archer: Can you hack into the KGB servers? Bilbo: Pfft.
Archer: I’ve always wanted to fight on top of a moving train. Bilko: Well, if I know my boys, you might get your chance, big guy.
Malory: Oh don't worry. He may be a vain, selfish, lying, and quite possibly alcoholic man-****, but gambling is one vice Sterling doesn't have.
Cyril: Krieger's father was a Nazi scientist! Malory: And JFK's father was a bootlegger.
Malory: What are you—? Sterling, No! You're not well. What are you going to do? Archer: Cry havoc and let slip the hogs of war! Lana: Dogs of war...
Archer: Yup, Stage Two breast cancer. Yeah, I mean it's not as bad as stage three or four.
Archer: Get me drunk enough and I might have sex with you. Pam: Really? Archer: No! Its a catch-22.
Cheryl: And now we're on the brink of World War Two. Pam: Three.
Archer: You realise you're in huge trouble? Woodhouse: Yes, sir. Archer: And now I have to spend my first Friday off in forever devising some bizzare punishment for you? Woodhouse: Yes, sir.
Lana: You know what's surprising? Kissing you goodbye at the airport, dozing off in first class, and then seeing you on my flight when I get up to pee! That, to me, is rather surprising!
Malory: Now, Sterling, drop your gun between the bodies... Archer: No! Have you ever seen CSI?
Ramón: Mamá always said, 'Ramón, un hombre real debe saber cocinar.' ['A real man should know how to cook'] Archer: Mine always said, 'Sterling, come in here and check me for lumps.'
Lana: Cyril is already freaked out enough about us sharing this shoebox without you air-drying your unkempt bush. Archer: Unkempt bush!? You're one to talk.
Lana: Where the f** are you going?! Archer: To get my turtleneck!
Cyril: For god’s sake, Pam! Have you no sense of decency? That bathroom’s like a… a war crime. Pam: Don’t blame me, it’s those new low-flow toilets!
Lana: I find your lack of faith disturbing.
Lana: I want you to listen to me.
Conway: Yesterday, Schmeck went missing, along with the plans for the Whisper Drive. I've tracked him to South Beach where he's arranged to sell the plans to Cuban Naval Intelligence. If that happens, undetectable Cuban missile subs could be parked right off Miami Beach.
Cyril: Yeah, she's kind of weird that way.
Cyril: How did you know where I was?
Cyril: The penpoint is a lot finer than I prefer. Archer: That's because it's a hypodermic needle and the cartridge is full of a deadly super-toxin. [puts the pen in Cyril's shirt-pocket] Keep it in here.
Malory: That's exactly the kind of slanderous and unsubstantiated rumor that I will not tolerate at ISIS. Think about that while you're on suspension. Lana: While I'm on what? Malory: What are you, deaf and racist? Lana: I'm black!
Malory: [drunk] He'll be back, crying for his mommy! Just like that Christmas break when I moved and forgot to give my new address to his stupid boarding school. [Cheryl gasps.] I mean, he rode the train into the city all by himself. He couldn't pick up a phone book?