Mitth'raw'nuruodo: "We monitored your transmissions as we positioned ourselves to intervene. Though the conversation was of course unintelligible to us, I remembered hearing the phonemes Dubrak Qennto in the Hutt's speech when Captain Quennto later identified himself. The conclusion was obvious."
Jorj Car'das (in narration): A shiver ran up Car'das's back. A conversation in an alien language, and yet Mitth'raw'nuruodo had been able to memorize enough of it to extract Qennto's name from the gibberish. What kind of creatures were these Chiss, anyway?
Bender: You speak English?
God: I do now.
Of course! Greek and Hebrew are mere play to a heroine; Sanscrit is no more than abc to her; and she can talk with perfect correctness in any language except English. She is a polking polyglott, a Creuzer in crinoline. Poor men! There are so few of you who know even Hebrew; you think it something to boast of if, like Bolingbroke, you only "understand that sort of learning, and what is writ about it;" and you are perhaps adoring women who can think slightingly of you in all the Semitic languages successively. But, then, as we are almost invariably told, that a heroine has a "beautifully small head," and as her intellect has probably been early invigorated by an attention to costume and deportment, we may conclude that she can pick up the Oriental tongues, to say nothing of their dialects, with the same a๋rial facility that the butterfly sips nectar.
Danny: The last few signs have been in Gaelic. It's not one of my languages.
Mac: You speak languages?
Danny: Oh, Italian, French, German, Spanish... Greek and Turkish... Russian, Japanese and Polish. I have a facility with languages.
"I speak Spanish to God, Italian to women, French to men, and German to my horse."
— Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor
Amy: Okay, what are you doing?
Doctor: I speak baby.
Amy: No, you don't.
Doctor: I speak everything.