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Giles: Uh, when I've examined it, you can, uh, uh, skim it.
Ms. Calendar: Scan it, Rupert. That's scan it.

Ms. Calendar: Oh, I know, our ways are strange to you, but soon you will join us in the 20th century. With three whole years to spare!
Giles: Ms. Calendar, I'm sure your computer science class is fascinating, but I happen to believe that one can survive in modern society without being a slave to the, um, idiot box.
Ms. Calendar: That's TV. The idiot box is TV. This is the good box!

Fritz: The printed page is obsolete. Information isn't bound up anymore. It's an entity. The only reality is virtual. If you're not jacked in, you're not alive.
Ms. Calendar: Thank you, Fritz, for making us all sound like crazy people.

Xander: I'm plannin' to be witty. I'm gonna make fun of all the people who won't talk to me.

Giles: I-I-I really don't know how to advise you. Things involved with a computer fill me with a childlike terror. Now, if it were a nice ogre or some such I'd be more in my element.

Xander: To read makes our speaking English good.

Giles: Uh, nothing, um, a, a diary, yes. I imagine that's what it is. Well, it's been so nice talking to you.
Ms. Calendar: We were fighting.
Giles: Must do it again sometime, yes... Bye, now.

Xander: Are we overreacting? He's in a computer! What can he do?
Buffy: You mean besides convince a perfectly nice kid to try and kill me? I don't know. How about mess up all the medical equipment in the world?
Giles: Randomize traffic signals.
Buffy: Access launch codes for our nuclear missiles.
Giles: Destroy the world's economy.
Buffy: I think I pretty much capped it with that nuclear missile thing.
Giles: Right, yours was best.

Buffy: Hey, did you forget? The one boy I've had the hots for since I've moved here turned out to be a vampire.
Xander: Right, and the teacher I had a crush on? Giant praying mantis?
Willow: That's true.
Xander: Yeah, that's life on the Hellmouth.
Buffy: Let's face it: none of us are ever gonna have a happy, normal relationship.
Xander: We're doomed!