Giles: Our new Fuehrer, Mr. Snyder.
Willow: I think they call 'em 'principals' now.

Buffy: Giles, unto every generation is born one who must run the annual talentless show. You cannot escape your destiny.
Giles: If you had any shred of decency, you would have participated, or at least, um, helped.
Buffy: Nah! I think I'll take on your traditional role... and watch!
Xander: And mock!
Willow: And laugh!

Xander: Did I mention that I *hate* this school?

Cordelia: All I can think is, it coulda been me!
Xander: We can dream.

Willow: What could a demon possibly want from me?
Xander: What's the square root of 841?
Willow: 29. Oh, yeah.