Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Marvin:
I think you ought to know I'm feeling very depressed.

Marvin:
Life? Don't talk to me about life!

Slartibartfast:
I must warn you, we're going to pass through, well, a sort of gateway thing.

Arthur Dent:
What?

Slartibartfast:
It may disturb you. It scares the willies out of me.

Trillian:
Marvin, you saved our lives!

Marvin the Paranoid Android:
I know. Wretched, isn't it?

Ghostly Image:
It is most gratifying that your enthusiasm for our planet continues unabated. As a token of our appreciation, we hope you will enjoy the two thermonuclear missiles we've just sent to converge with your craft. To ensure ongoing quality of service, your death may be monitored for training purposes. Thank you.

Arthur Dent:
Just wait a sodding minute! You want a question that goes with the answer for 42? Well how about what's six times seven? Or how many Vogons does it take to change a lightbulb? Here's one! How many roads must a man walk down?

Arthur Dent:
Fine. Fine, take it. Because my head is filled with questions and I can assure you no answer to any one of them has ever brought me one iota of happiness. Except for one. The one. The only question I've ever wanted an answer to - is she the one? The answer bloody well isn't forty-two, it's yes. Undoubtedly, unequivocally, unabashadly yes. And for one week, one week in my sad little blip of an existence, it made me happy.

Trillian:
That's a good answer...

Arthur Dent:
I'm sorry, did you just say you needed my brain?

Arthur Dent:
Well, you can't have it, I'm using it!

Arthur Dent:
Cheeky mouse...

Mr. Prosser:
Do you know how much damage this bulldozer would sustain if I just let it roll over you?

Arthur:
How much?

Mr. Prosser:
None at all.

Ford:
You're looking for the Ultimate Question.

Zaphod:
Yep.

Ford:
You.

Zaphod:
Me.

Ford:
Why?

Zaphod:
No, I tried that: Why? 42. Doesn't work.

Humma Kavula:

Humma Kavula:

Humma Kavula:

Humma Kavula:

Humma Kavula:
Bless you.

Slartibartfast:
Your friends are safe. You must come with me.

Arthur Dent:
Who are you?

Slartibartfast:
My name's not important. You must come with me, you don't want to be late.

Arthur Dent:
Late for what?

Slartibartfast:
Well, like, um, what's your name?

Arthur Dent:
Dent. Arthur Dent.

Slartibartfast:
Well, late as in the *late* Dentarthurdent. It's a kind of threat.

Arthur Dent:
How can I come with you if I don't even know who you are?

Slartibartfast:
Well, um, my name is, um, it's

Slartibartfast:
Slartibartfast.

Arthur Dent:
What?

Slartibartfast:
I said it wasn't important.

The Book:
It's an important and popular fact, that things are not always what they seem. For instance, on the planet Earth, Man had always assumed that he was the most intelligent species occupying the planet, instead of the *third* most intelligent.

Trillian:
I want to go somewhere I've never been, and I'd like to go with you.

Ford:
I know this great Restaurant at the End of the Universe.

Marvin:
You can blame the Sirius Cybernetics Corporation for making androids with GPP...

Arthur:
Um... what's GPP?

Marvin:
Genuine People Personalities. I'm a personality prototype. You can tell, can't you...?

Zaphod:
If there's anything around here more important than my ego, I want it caught and shot now!

The Book:
According to the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, the best drink in the known universe is the Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster. It has the effect of having your brains smashed out with a slice of lemon... wrapped around a large gold brick.

Slartibartfast:
That's Frank.

Zaphod:
Hey baby, what say we trip the light fantastic? Just you and me.

Trillian:
I have a plan.

Arthur:
Does it involve pushing him out there and then running the other way?

The Book:
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy also talks about love. It says: avoid it!

The Book:
Vogon poetry is the third worst in the Universe. The second worst is that of the Azgoths of Kria. During a recitation by their Poet Master Grunthos the Flatulent of his poem "Ode to a Small Lump of Green Putty I Found in My Armpit One Midsummer Morning" four of his audience members died of internal hemorrhaging, and the President of the Mid-Galactic Arts Coucil survived by chewing through one of his own legs.

Arthur:
Normality? We can talk about normality until the cows come home.

Trillian:
What is normality?

Ford:
What is home?

Zaphod:
What're cows?

Ford:
I checked The Guide for the best way to rescue a prisoner from Vogsphere, it said "don't".

Eddie the Computer:
I am pleased to inform you that two nuclear missiles are now headed this way... if you don't mind, I am going to take action

Zaphod:
COMPUTER DO SOMETHING!

Eddie the Computer:
Ok, switching to manual mode... good luck!

Marvin:
Freeze? I'm a robot. I'm not a refrigerator.

Arthur:
Why?

Zaphod:
Nah, I've tried it. "Why? Forty-two." Just doesn't work.

Marvin:
I've been talking to the main computer.

Arthur:
And?

Marvin:
It hates me.

Zaphod:
HUMMA KAVULA!

Marvin:
Not that anyone cares what I think, but the Restaurant is at the *other* end of the Universe.

Trillian:
Marvin... you saved us!

Marvin:
I know. Wretched, isn't it?

Arthur:
So this is it. Were going to die

Ford:
Yes. Would you like a hug?

Arthur:
...no...

Arthur:
I'll handle this - I'm British; I know how to queue.

Vogon:
Oh no, he's closed the gate from the inside, we'll have to go round.

Marvin:
I've calculated your chance of survival, but I don't think you'll like it.

Barman:
Did you say the end of the world is coming? Shouldn't we all lay down on the floor or put paper bags over our heads?

Ford:
If you wish.

Barman:
Will it help?

Ford:
Not at all.

Deep Thought:
Have an answer for you? Yes. But you're not going to like it.

Deep Thought:
Okay. The answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe, and everything is...

Deep Thought:
42.

Arthur:
We're going on a hunch of someone whose brain is being fueled by lemons?

Marvin:
I don't know what you're all worried about. Vogons are the worst marksmen in the galaxy.

Marvin:
Now I've got a headache.

The Book:
Vogons. They are one of the most unpleasant races in the galaxy. Not actually evil, but bad-tempered, bureaucratic, officious, and callous. They wouldn't even lift a finger to save their own grandmothers from the ravenous bug-bladdered beast of Traal without orders signed in triplicate, sent in, sent back, lost, found again, subjected to public inquiry, and finally buried in soft peat for three months and recycled as firelighter. On no account should you allow a Vogon to read poetry to you.

Ford:
Time is an illusion. Lunchtime, doubly so.

Ghostly Image:
We are pleased to see that your enthusiasm for our product continues unabated, and would like you to know that the two thermonuclear missiles currently converging upon your vessel are merely a courtesy we extend to all prospective customers.

Zaphod:
Have you ever tried yoga?

Marvin:
This will all end in tears.

Arthur:
It must be Thursday. I never could get the hang of Thursdays.

Zaphod:
Trill, are you wearing my underwear? 'Cause I'm wearing yours, and it ain't doing the trick.

Fook:
We don't want to be happy, we want to be famous.

Marvin:
Here I am with a brain the size of a planet and they ask me to pick up a piece of paper. Call that job satisfaction? I don't.

Vogon:
Resistance is useless!

Ford:
You've got to know where your towel is.

Zaphod:
I'm from another planet. Seriously!

Zaphod:
You want to see my spaceship?

Slartybartfast:
The odds of understanding what's really going on are so dreadfully remote you might as well just keep yourself occupied.

Dolphins:
Goodbye and thanks for all the fish.