Mary: Um, let's just talk in a couple of days, and I'll have some time to myself, and you'll have some time to break your new camera. [exits]
Dick: Mary? Nina! Did you hear any of that?
Nina: Unfortunately, yes. I couldn't find my Walkman in time.
Dick: So, is this the beginning of the end for me and Mary?
Nina: No. No, not at all. Taking time apart is what healthy couples do. That's why you two have never done it.

Harry: Oh, wow. This is great, Dick. How did you find out that Pendelton had a bomb shelter?
Dick: The same way I found out about the airport. Mary and I snuck in here for a "nooner."

Mary: I don't know how this happened. I start my weekend, determined to spend a little time away from you, and I end up in a cinderblock cell with you and your entire family. I may have problems, but they have nothing to do with alcohol! [storms out]
Dick: Well done, people! She's completely recovered! Let's get out of here!

Dick: Good job, Sally. Yeah. Really good job.
Sally: I know. I already feel like an idiot. I just didn't factor in the single-band lake effect off Mikford Pond.
Harry: Yeah. Loser! Oo-oo! Loser! Oo-oo!
Sally: Yeah, so some things in life really are unpredictable. I mean, there are forces out there that are greater than humans. Even greater than us.
Harry: Yep. Like elephants, garlic, and Slinkies.
Sally: You know, Harry, you don't always have to join us out here on the roof.

Dick: Mary! Mary, let me take your picture with my cool new camera.
Mary: Oh, no. Quit it. I always look terrible in those pictures.
Dick: But these are sticky.
Mary: Dick, I'm trying to work here. Why don't you take your new toy outside?
Dick: Because you're in here. Let's do the many moods of Mary Albright. Angry. Angry. Okay. That's enough angry. Let's move on to impish.
Mary: This is really annoying because you're not listening to me.
Dick: But you're not listening to me! Where's impish?
Mary: You know what? We are about to get into a huge fight.
Dick: Oh, if that's the case, I better put in a new role of film.

Dick: Harry, you're soaking.
Harry: Well, I went for a walk and got caught in the rain, and so I called 911. Don gave me a ride home.
Don: I was glad to do it, but when I file my paperwork, you're a runaway girl who turned her life around after some straight talk from a caring cop.
Harry: That's actually closer than you might think.

Sally: Look, your stupid forecast ruined the best jacket I ever owned!
Marty: Miss, we don't have a big weather budget like the other stations. We just pull our forecasts off the internet.
Chaz Montana: It's really cool. You just type in your zip code-
Sally: Save it! Look at that satellite photo. Any idiot knows that an occluded front hovering over the Twin Counties will not generate precipitation, provided that the dew point doesn't spike. But look, it's spiking.
Marty: How do you know that?
Sally: Oh, I'm trained to know that. You can jeopardize your own security by not being constantly aware of atmospheric conditions.
Chaz Montana: I totally agree.

Sally: There's the teeniest of warming trends on its way. But is it time to break out our cocoa butter and Espadrilles? Only I know for sure, because I'm Sally Storm.

Marty: That was great! Now, the key to drawing in an audience is for you and Chaz to have that witty on-air banter.
Chaz Montana: But it's gotta be genuine. The folks at home love it if you and I are really good buddies.
Sally: Okay. Genuine buddy banter comin' up.
Floor Manager: In 5, 4, 3, 2...
Chaz Montana: Here's Sally with the forecast.
Sally: Thanks, Chazbo. Well, tomorrow, the temperatures will be in the low 50s, and we'll be goin' from freezy to breezy as this shift will bring about a slight bit of wind to the southwest quadrant of Rutherford. Actually, Chaz, it'll be more like a zephyr.
Chaz Montana: Wow. So a little windy, huh, Sal?
Sally: Oh, very windy, Chaz. So you'd better double-up on that glue you use to hold your wig in place.
Chaz Montana: No... No, it isn't.

Sally: So, Mr. Happy Sun will hit like a lead pipe on the soft cartilage of Rutherford's nose creating a 2.5 mile-per-hour breeze that'll travel down Elm Street, bank off City Hall, and dissipate into the park.
Dick: [watching on TV] Wait a minute.
Chaz Montana: Are you sure you wanna be that specific, Sally?
Sally: Well, was I right today, Chaz?
Chaz Montana: Well, yes. You're always right, every forecast.
Dick: [watching on TV] No!
Chaz Montana: I've never seen anyone predict the weather so accurately.
Sally: And I've never seen a grown man throw up to keep his weight down, but it seems to be workin' for you, Chaz.