Lily: "What if she pulls an Anna Nicole and takes this to the Supreme Court? We'll be homeless forever!"
Rufus: "We have a home. You're standing in it."
Lily: "No, I mean like a real house. Where people live."
Rufus: "Apparently we've forgotten our California, indie-rock groupie days. Apparently we are accustomed to the finer things. I mean, it took me a while to get used to living in a palace, on your dime, but somehow I..."
Lily: "Yeah, that was quite an adjustment. I mean, I can't even make tea without fucking fireballs shooting out the..."
Lily: "Maybe it's the smell of singed eyebrows, maybe it's the fact that I am still completely hammered, but for a second I am going to stop bitching at you like the entitled princess I have become."
Rufus: "We're laughing! It's romantic! This is not hysterical laughter at all!"
Ivy: "Let me eat cake! That's my little joke, because I'm sitting here all alone, eating cake and thinking about my frozen assets."
Footman: "Madame, your invoice for thirty grand."
Ivy: "Oh right, for that party I threw, back when I had all that money a second ago."
A PISS-SMELLING WILLIAMSBURG ALLEY Yep. Called it.
PAYNE ANNUNCIATIONS: THEY NUMBER THREE
Chuck: "Private Investigator, please investigate the wrong lady. Do it privately."
Jack: "Mysterious interlocutor, Chuck is asking about your identity. You need to come fix this before he bothers that poor old madwoman I brainwashed into thinking she was his mom last time."
Nate: "Well, I just completely randomly got a call from Diana Payne. She's coming back to town and apparently is buying the Spectator again, or something."
Lola: "Who's Diana Payne?"
Nate: "I have some things to tell you about how I am a tadpole hustler. I fuck old women for money, sometimes. I may have left that part out before now. But it is about to be important."
Serena: "No job, no Dan, no friends. Nate's pissed at me for the eightieth consecutive episode. No family in Manhattan except my creepster dad and sister-cousin who still basically hates me. Blair off, imploding somewhere in Brooklyn. All my boyfriends are in jail or on the run or have film careers now. SxS was not a hit, and now that's over. I have nothing and nobody. I am alone in this universe. But at least I have you, Gossip Girl laptop. And all the secrets. Maybe I'll turn into a crazy housebound Nikki Finke, like GG 1.0. I'll drink bourbon and keep tissues in my housecoat. It will be quite a life, until something else completely random catches my eye..."