Pushing Daisies

Lily: Damn it! And we are spittin’ pissed at being served up a steaming plate of door!
Vivian: I don’t get pissed. A gypsy once told me it brings on hemorrhoids.

Chuck: I’ll let you breathe in a minute, I promise.
Ned: I’m good.

Ned: Are we together?
Chuck: Mmm. We’re so gethered, electrons couldn’t get between us.

Emerson: Well, hate to be a bitch, but ain’t no way in the world I’m taking this case.
Emerson: So, make it look like an accident. Trip over an Ottoman and Dick Van Dyke that ass.
Emerson: Mrs. McQuoddy? Present conditions are cold, rainy, with a 100% chance that “you’re dead.”
Emerson: Oh, Hell, we got a melty mouth.
Emerson: Bunch of blond-over-blue children of the corn.
Emerson: Shut the a capella up.

Olive: You were getting down with the diorama dame.
Gus: I damned that dame every time she made an advance.
Gus: Such a depressing word, “diorama.” It has “die” in it. I like “rama.”

Annabelle: One can never add enough glitter to a husband’s memory.

Annabelle: Life… you can’t make this crap up.

Chuck: But it’s just a normal father/daughter/daughter’s boyfriend dynamic.
Ned: It’s not.
Chuck: Why not? Because he’s been dead for 20 years? Just pretend he’s been in a coma.

Charles: Come with me, Button. Pie is simple. It’s limited. Just a bit of pastry and filling. Cake is complex. Layered with treasures waiting to be discovered.

Ned: Hate to break it to you, Charles, but no one cared about Dr. Frankenstein. They were after his monster.

Photos from Pushing Daisies TV