Bugs Bunny: [to the bull] Stop steamin' up my tail! What're ya tryin' ta do, wrinkle it?

Bugs Bunny: Of course you realize this means war.

Bugs Bunny: What a gulla-bull. What a nin-cow-poop.

[first lines]
Bugs Bunny: Well, here I am. Hey, just a cotton-picking minute. This don't look like the Coachella Valley to me.
[picks up map]
Bugs Bunny: Hmm, I knew I should've taken that left turn at Albuquerque. Oh well, I'll just ask this gent in the fancy knickerbockers. Eh, I beg your par...
[the matador runs right past Bugs; Bugs chases him]
Bugs Bunny: Eh, pardon me, sir, but could you direct me to the shortest route to the Coachella Valley and the big carrot festival therein?
[the matador climbs the fence]
Bugs Bunny: Eh, what's up, Doc?

[last lines]
Bugs Bunny: What an im-bess-ill. What an ultra-maroon.