[After sex]
Miranda: ummm that was incredible. Was it good for you?
Fletcher: I've had better.

Fletcher: You scratched my car!!!
Motorpool Guy: Where?
Fletcher: (indicating with his hands) Right there!
Motorpool Guy: That was already there.
Fletcher: You---LIAR! You know what I am going to do about this?
motorpool Guy: what?
Fletcher: Absolutely nothing. Because if I take it to court, it will just drain 8 hours out of my life; you probably won't show up and once I do get the judgment, you'll just stiff me anyway; so what I am going to do is piss and moan like an impotent jerk, then bend over and take it up the tailpipe!!"
Motorpool Guy: [tossing the keys to Fletcher] You've been here before haven't ya?

Judge Stevens: Mr. Reede, one more word out of you, and I will hold you in contempt!
Fletcher: I hold *myself* in contempt! Why should you be any different?

Cop: Do you know why I pulled you over?
Fletcher: Depends on how long you were following me.
Cop: Let's start from the top.
Fletcher: Here it goes: I sped. I followed too closely. I ran a stop sign. I almost hit a Chevy. I sped some more. I failed to yield at a crosswalk. I changed lanes at an intersection. I changed lanes without signaling while running a red light and SPEEDING!
Cop: Is that all?
Fletcher: No. ...I have unpaid parking tickets.

Max Reede: Is wrestling real?
Fletcher: In the Olympics, yes. On channel 23, no.

Secretary: He knocked over another ATM. This time at knife point. He needs your legal advice.
Fletcher: [picking up phone and shouting] Stop breaking the law, asshole!

Bum: Sir, can you spare a little change?
Fletcher: Yes I could.
Bum: Well, will you?
Fletcher: No.
Bum: Why not?
Fletcher: Because I believe you will buy booze with it. I just want to get from the car to my office without being confronted by the decay of western society. Plus I'm cheap.

Receptionist: Do you like my new dress?
Fletcher: What ever takes the focus off your head!

Fletcher: You don't believe me, do ya?
Greta: Of course not.
Fletcher: How ironic!

Fletcher: The pen is blue, the pen is blue, the goddamn pen is blue!

Max Reede: If I keep making this face...will it get stuck like that?
Fletcher: Uh uh. As a matter of fact, some people make a very good living that way.

Fletcher: Your honor, I object!
Judge: And why is that, Mr. Reed?
Fletcher: Because it's devastating to my case!

Guy in the Washroom: What're you doing?
Fletcher: I'm kicking my ass! Do you mind?!

Office Worker: Hey, Fletcher, how's it hanging?
Fletcher: [groans] Short, shriveled, and always to the left.

Fletcher: You brought your kids to your court hearing?
Samantha: Sympathy.
Fletcher: Well, it's working! I feel sorry for them already!

Fletcher: I'm so glad my gift could bring them closer together. My plan to phase myself out is almost complete!

Secretary: A burglar tried to break into my friend's house, fell through a skylight, and cut his leg on a knife on the kitchen counter. He sued her and won $6,000. Is that justice?
Fletcher: No. I woulda got him ten.

Max Reede: My dad? He's...a liar.
Teacher: A liar? I'm sure you don't mean a liar.
Max Reede: Well he wears a suit and goes to court and talks to the judge.
Teacher: Oh, you mean he's a lawyer.

Fletcher: Mrs. Cole, the only problem here is that after you've provided years of faithful service and loving support raising his children - They are his?
Mrs. Cole: Oh yeah. One for sure.
Fletcher: After all that, your husband wants to deny you a fair and equitable share of the marital assets based on one single act of indiscretion.
Mrs. Cole: Seven.
Fletcher: Hmmm.
Mrs. Cole: Seven single acts of indiscretion.
Fletcher: Whatever.

Max Reede: I wish, for just one day, Dad couldn't tell a lie.

Max Reede: My teacher tells me beauty is on the inside.
Fletcher: That's just something ugly people say.

Fletcher: Why don't you go play in the office a minute. Sue someone for everything they've got.

Jerry: I love you!
Audrey: Thank you
Jerry: Well, that's wasn't exactly the answer I was hoping for...

Audrey: Where were you?
Fletcher: Having sex.
Audrey: Well, I hope it was with someone VERY special.
Fletcher: No, see - that's the thing...I don't even like her, but she's a partner and I thought I could help my career by making her squeal.

[About Jerry]
Fletcher: "He's just so...Magoo!"

Dana: He's badgering the witness!
Judge Stevens: It's his witness!

Driver: What's your problem, Schmuck!
Fletcher: I'm an inconsiderate prick!!

Fletcher: Jerry, enjoy my wife.

Fletcher: I was hoping after being married to me you'd have no more strength left.
Audrey: Well, you have to remember that when we were married, I wasn't having sex nearly as often as you were.

Gretta: Oh and your wife called, she wants know when you're gonna pick up Max from school.
Fletcher: Oh, I'm such a shit!

[Interrogating Samantha]
Fletcher: Weight: 105, yeah, in your bra.
Dana: I object.
Fletcher: You would.

Fletcher: You lied about your age to make yourself older, but why would any self-respecting woman wanna do that?
Samantha: I changed it so I could get married.
Fletcher: AND THE TRUTH SHALL SET YOU FREE!!!

Fletcher: The fact that my client has been ridden more than Seattle Slew is irrelevant.

[About Mr. Allen]
Miranda: Well, what do you think of him?
Fletcher: He's a pedantic, pontificating, pretentious bastard, a pathetic old fart and a worthless steaming pile of cow dung, figuratively speaking.
[a moment passes and Mr. Allen starts laughing]
Mr. Allen: That's the funniest damn thing I've ever heard. You're a real card, Reede. I love a good roast. Do Simmons.
Fletcher: Simmons is old. He should've been out of the game years ago but he can't stay home because he hates his wife. You've met her at the Christmas parties, she's the one that gets plastered and calls him a retard, and you, Tom; you're the biggest brownnose I've ever seen. You've got your head so far up Mr. Allen's ass, I can't tell where you end and he begins. (Fletcher continues with every member.) You have bad breath caused by gingivitis. You couldn't get a porn star off. Your hairpiece looks like something that got killed crossing the highway. I don't know whether to comb it or scrape it off with a shovel and bury it in lyme. Loser! Idiot! Wimp! Degenerate! SLUT!!!