“Miss Tillings: Stand up, Nigel Barton! Well, Nigel, do you know anything about this? I can't believe it was you!
Nigel Barton: No, Miss!
Miss Tillings: Then what do you know about it?
Nigel Barton: I think - I think I might have had the daffodil, Miss—
Miss Tillings: You might have had it? What do you mean, boy? Speak up!
Nigel Barton: The stem was all broke and somebody gave it to me, Miss.
Miss Tillings: Who gave it to you?
Nigel Barton: Ooh, I don't like to say, Miss.
Miss Tillings: You better had, Barton, and quick about it.
Nigel Barton: Georgie Pringle, Miss.”

“Harry Barton: Clever sod, aren't you? I expect they think the sun shines out of you down at Oxford.
Nigel Barton. Up.
Harry Barton: What?
Nigel Barton. Up, dad. Up.
Harry Barton: Aye, and up you, too!
Nigel Barton: Everyone says 'Up at Oxford'. You come 'down' when you've finished there.
Harry Barton: Well, what's this then? Does bloody Oxford move up and down the bloody map then?”

“Nigel Barton (On TV): I feel I don't belong here, that's my trouble.
Interviewer (on TV): Well, where do you belong? At home?
Harry Barton: Of course!
Nigel Barton (on TV): No, I'm afraid I don't. Now it hurts to say this, of course, but it's the truth. Back at home, in the village, in the workingmen's club, with people I went to school with, I'm so much on the defensive, you see. They suspect me of making qualitative judgments about their environment, you understand, but it's not that I wish to do so. Yet I even find my own father looking at me oddly some times, waiting to pounce on some remark, some expression in my face, watching me like a hawk. I don't feel at home in either place. I don't belong. It's a tightrope between two different worlds, and I'm walking it.
Harry Barton: You're a bloody liar, Nigel!”

“I miss it enormously. I miss the buzz. I miss the adrenalin and I miss shouting into the microphone. I miss the atmosphere, I miss the camaraderie. But I don't miss it as much as I might have done, because I haven't had a total withdrawal.”

“They say when you are missing someone that they are probably feeling the same, but I don't think it's possible for you to miss me as much as I'm missing you right now”

“I missed you even when I was with you. That’s been my problem. I miss what I already have, and I surround myself with things that are missing.”

“Do you miss me yet? Do you miss me?”

“Yes, I miss you, I miss you.”

“Did I miss the skyscrapers, did I miss the long freeway?
From the coast of California to the shores of The Delaware Bay
You can bet your life I did, till I got back in the U. S. A.”

“Here it is,' Nigel said.
Mrs D, Mrs I, Mrs FFI, Mrs C, Mrs U, Mrs LTY. That spells difficulty.'
How perfectly ridiculous!' snorted Miss Trunchbull. 'Why are all these women married?”