Diane: Ah, the alleys. Thanks. It's really a sensory experience, you know. The scent of Aqua Net on a beehive hairdo. The roar of polyester against old Naugahyde. The sight of a cigarette stubbed out in a patty melt. All this, plus the anticipation of placing your feet in shoes only 7,000 others have worn before you.

Diane: Excuse me, but you've obviously come here to belittle my friends. Why? I can only speculate. Perhaps you're compensating for some physical shortcoming. I don't know. But it's tragic that you place such stock in a silly competition. What of higher attainments? What of loftier pursuits? What of art? And philosophy? What of music?
Gary: I graduated magna cum laude in American Literature from Princeton.
Diane: Oh? Couldn't make summa?

Sam: Say, Woody, it's still not too late to change your mind.
Woody: Don't you understand? I maimed a man.
Sam: Bowling accidents happen. You read about them in the paper all the time.
Woody: He was only an innocent maintenance man.
Sam: Come on, man. He knew the risks.
Woody: I still don't know what happened. You know, one minute, I was picking up the eight-ten split, and the next thing I know, the ten pin flies and hits old Sully right between the eyes and he goes down like a sack of wheat. Sam, I ruined the man's life.
Sam: Oh, come on. I'm sure you're exaggerating.
Woody: Oh, no. No, I'm not. Old Sully got too dim-witted to stay in bowling maintenance. Last I heard, he was a clown at children's birthday parties.
Sam: Well, what's wrong with that?
Woody: He wasn't invited to them.