Sam: "Dear Sam. Although my tenure here has been one of value and enlightenment, still..."
Diane: Il faut cultiver notre jardin.
Sam: Come on! First of all, nobody resigns from a bar. And second of all, nobody resigns in Latin.
Cliff: It's French, Sammy.
Coach: What does it mean, Cliff?
Cliff: Well, because of the idiomatic peculiarities, it can't really be translated into English.
Diane: "One must cultivate one's own garden."
Cliff: Oh, oh, oh. Well, Diane, you took some liberties with the derogatory tense there, but I think we'll let it slide this time, huh?

Cliff: Carla, what's the matter, sweetheart? Are you all right?
Carla: Don't you see? My life hasn't exactly been a bag of roses, you know. My old man used to beat me. I spent half my childhood in reform school. My husband was a rat who left me with four hungry mouths to feed. But this... makes up for all that. I am the happiest woman alive.

Sam: You know, what the hell's this about? Is this because I didn't take your side against Carla?
Diane: No, Sam. The problem with Carla is only a symptom. You see, it's abundantly clear to me that our working together is making our lives miserable and it can only get worse.
Coach: Diane, you just can't leave like that. I mean, we should have a party, you know. Some booze, a lot of pretzels, some munchies, get a lot of people together.
Norm: Coach, you mean kind of like this?
Coach: Well, I guess that's goodbye, Diane.