Sam: [o.s.] Diane, open up.
Diane: Go away, Sam. I'm meditating.
Sam: [o.s.] Open the door, Diane. I have something I want to say.
Diane: Oh, Sam, how much more evidence do you need that we were not made in heaven. We turn into idiots in each other's company. The difference in your case is barely perceptible, but it's starting to bother me.