Sam: Come on, listen, snap out of this, will you? I mean, I- I didn't say all that stuff last night to hurt your feelings.
Diane: My feelings aren't hurt. I just feel bad for you. Sentenced to a life with one perfume, one set of insensitive earlobes, one set of lips flapping in your ear till you die.
Sam: Come on! I was with a bunch of guys. I mean, they forced me to make a speech. How the hell did I know my fiance was hiding in the cake, taking dictation?
Diane: Did you mean it, Sam?
Sam: No. See, it's just this this whole marriage thing's kind of snuck up on me, that's all. I mean, I'm happy that you're the only woman I'll make love to again... ever. [Diane snaps her fingers as Sam stares dreamily into the distance] Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, but-but, you see I mean, if I had known that the last one was going to be the last one, l- l- l would've prepared myself for it. Sweetheart, it's kind of like popcorn. Now, you- You can munch away as long as you know there's a bowlful, but, you know, if all of a sudden, it's all gone, there's nothing left but the salt and the duds, well, you feel bad, because if you'd known the last kernel was the last one, you would've savored it. Am I making myself clear on this?
Diane: Oh, yes, yes. I'm salt and duds.