Worf: Why not leave? Afraid you'll die escaping? |
L'Kor: We already died at Khitomer, remember?
Worf: I get it -- death before dishonor.
L'Kor: This from someone who joined Starfleet. But I digress.
Worf: That's a whup@$$ Klingon weapon, not for tilling soil.
Toq: I have work to do, and I prefer to be away from the war.
Worf: Next you will tell me a tractor beam has agricultural uses.
Toq: Now that you mention it, it's an excellent weeding aid.
Ba'el: Well, hello again. I heard you were staying.
Worf: Not by choice.
Ba'el: But isn't it nice to be away from the war?
Worf: Don't mention the war.
Tokath: Worf, remember E'b'nee --
Worf: -- and I-Vo'Ree. Live together?
Tokath: In perfect harmony, side by side on the piano keyboard.
Worf: Oh, Lord, why -- stop reciting these lyrics!
Tokath: It's a small wonder you didn't catch on earlier.
Ba'el: Brushing up on your Tai Chi?
Worf: This is the Mok'bara, which forms the basis for Klingon combat.
Ba'el: I have a better suggestion -- bite me.
Ba'el: I mean my cheek.
Gi'ral: Keep your filthy hands off my daughter, you!
Worf: ....and so Kahless held his breath for three days and three nights.
Toq: That's impossible. I've had enough of these old wives' tales. I'm leaving.
Ba'el: Worf, I ask you again -- will you bite my cheek?
Worf: I... I... oh, you pointy-eared halfbreed Romulan!
Picard: Any news on Worf? He is much too late for comfort.
La Forge: The Yridian shuttle has been to at least three systems.
Picard: Suggestions, Mr. La Forge?
La Forge: Let's head for the one closest to trouble.
Worf: No, no, no. Klingons do not play; they train for the hunt.
Toq: Why hunt when there are replicators?
Worf: I remember when I needed to wade through three feet of snow on Rura Penthe....
Toq: Right. But I could rise to the challenge anyway.
Worf: I need to go hunting.
Tokath: How do we know you won't try to escape again?
Worf: I have Toq as my guard, and you have my word.
L'Kor: He gave his word. Have I ever broken mine?
Tokath: Point taken; you've only broken into the cookie jar. All right, they can go.
Worf: Can you smell your prey?
Toq: Why do we have to stand upwind?
Worf: It is either that or an annual shower. Feel the wind turning?
Toq: You know, I think I'd prefer it if you chose the shower.
Tokath: Toq hasn't returned.
L'Kor: Here comes the son.
Toq: Ka'la! Tonight we eat well!
Tokath: Get that off my table.
Toq: Gladly, once it's cooked. You can sit here and fry in the meantime.
Toq: Now, I want a little sing-along. HACK! GARGLE....!
Tokath: Hairball troubling you?
Ba'el: Let's all join in -- HACK! GARGLE....!
Tokath: Oh no, it's contagious.
Ba'el: Is that a d'k tahg in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?
Worf: Take your pick.
Ba'el: Why do you choose to be executed?
Worf: I'm dishonoring myself here.
Ba'el: By falling in love with a pointy-eared halfbreed?
Worf: Not quite -- come here, you.
Tokath: Worf must be executed, since we can't imagine....
Worf: All the people -- don't agree.
Toq: Kill him, but kill me first.
Ba'el: No, me. I'm sick of hearing all these song lyrics.
Gi'ral: We chose for ourselves, but we have forgotten our children.
Tokath: I get it -- another teenage rebellion episode.
Worf: Young people, promise to tell no one.
Toq: Except for the Romulan cargo ship conveniently passing through in a few days.
Data: Captain, I am receiving a text message from a Romulan warbird -- it is Worf!
Picard: Remind me to tell him of 3G phones. He could have sent an MMS.
Data: He is improving. This message comes with a Klingon emoticon.
Picard: Come again?
Data: Three beginning angles, one ending angle, a colon, and a start parenthesis.
Picard: Welcome home, Lieutenant. Did you find your father?
Worf: There were no survivors. These young ones crashed a shuttle a few years ago.
Picard: And my last name is Martin, but have it your way.
La Forge: Data, any more dreams lately?
Data: There was one where I kept hearing the words "within you, without you."
La Forge: Strange. Did you tell Bashir?
Data: Yes, but he just laughed.
La Forge: By George, I shudder at who the next guest Starr will be.
(Data frowns quizzically at Ludicrous Speed)