A couple from one of my favorite farces of all time, Neil Simon's Murder By Death:
Sam Diamond: I don't get it. First they steal the body and leave the clothes, then they take the clothes and bring the body back. Who would do a thing like that?
Dick Charleston: Possibly some deranged dry cleaner.
Milo Perrier: What do you make of all of this, Wang?
Sidney Wang: Is confusing.
Lionel Twain: [from moose head] IT! IT is confusing! Say your goddamn pronouns!
Jamesir Bensonmum: She murdered herself in her sleep, sir.
Dick Charleston: You mean suicide?
Jamesir Bensonmum: Oh no, it was murder, all right. Mrs. Twain HATED herself.
Sam Diamond: No pinkies? You mean Twain has only got eight fingers?
Tess Skeffington: No, no, he's got ten. He just doesn't have any pinkies.
Marcel: Something isn't right in all of this, eh. I can feel it in my buns.
Inspector Milo Perrier: Your what?
Marcel: My buns.
Inspector Milo Perrier: Buns? Your buns? You bought buns and you didn't tell me? Where are they? Where are the buns?
Marcel: Oh! No, monsieur. The BONES in my body.
Inspector Milo Perrier: You should not speak with an accent when you know I am so hungry.
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It's a hand-me-down, the thoughts are broken
Perhaps they're better left unsung
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