Erin: Why are you calling Maureen Malarkey? Granda says we're not allowed to speak to her.
Mary: Oh, that... that's all blown over now.
Erin: [opens door] Maureen Malarkey!
Joe: [o.s.] Don't you mention that lowdown, deceitful, cheating old witch!

Mary: Now, come on, girls, eat up. You'll need all your energy for the big exam.
Clare: We'll need a miracle for the big exam!
Erin: Mammy... what happened to Toto... it's just hit me so hard. And... I'm worried it might affect my performance.
Mary: Oh, come here, love. Look, if you fail the exam, I promise you, there'll be a nice wee plot out there with your name on it.

Erin: What are you wearing?
Michelle: What did I say? You look like a fucking ball bag.
Orla: Your hair's all funny.
James: I just put a bit too much mousse in it, that's all.

Mary: Well, that's that done.
Joe: God rest his wee soul.
Sarah: Don't talk to me. I was in bits las tonight. Didn't even manage my Chinese. Poor Tonto.
Erin: Toto. His name was Toto, Aunt Sarah.
Sarah: Aye. Nightmare, so it is. Dad, do us a bacon butty, would you? My stomach thinks my throat's cut here.
Joe: Sure, love.

Gerry: Jesus, the pets are getting it left, right and centre at the minute. Maureen Malarkey's Tigger just passed away.
Joe: We do not utter that woman's name in this house.
Mary: Da, not the bingo thing, still!
Joe: She's a cheating old bitch!
Erin: How can you cheat at bingo, Granda?
Joe: Her nephew brought her this pen back from New Jersey. It changes the numbers. I'm telling ya, it's witchcraft, Mary!
Mary: I'll hear no more about the magic pen!

Michelle: Fuck the exam. [to the Mary statue] Sorry.
Erin: Listen...
Michelle: This is huge, Clare...
Erin: The thing is...
Michelle: Do you really think they're gonna make us sit an exam after seeing this?
Erin: You may have a point.
Michelle: Of course I have a point! We are the motherfucking children of Fatima, people!

Father Peter: But sometimes, we want to believe in something so much that we willingly deceive ourselves. I mean, I know I've been guilty of that in the past. I wanted a sign so badly that it drove me to distraction, because it is the question we all want the answer to, isn't it? I mean, does God exist? I mean, does he exist? Does he? Or is your whole world built on a lie, Peter?
James: Peter?
Father Peter: Yeah. Directly before the weeping, can you remember what you were doing? What you were talking about?
Michelle: I remember that James was being a dick.
Sister Michael: Ms. Mallon.
Michelle: I don't like to use that word, Sister, but it's so hard to describe James any other way, cos he's just such a dick.
Father Peter: I don't think you're a dick, James.
James: Really?
Father Peter: Really. And you know who else doesn't think you're a dick? Our Lord.
Sister Michael: For feck's sake.

Michelle: Can we please talk about something else? I'm half torn, this is wrecking my head.
Erin: What? Have you been drinking?
Michelle: Yes, I have. And for future reference, if any of you invite me to a study sleepover again and I'm desperate enough to accept that invitation, there's a good chance I have a litre bottle of Pernod in my bag.

Joe: Now, more bacon, anyone? Another sausage? Wee omelette, maybe? Anything at all? It's absolutely no bother.
Gerry: I'll have a cup of tea, so, Joe.
Joe: Make your own tea!
Gerry: Yeah, I'll do that.

Michelle: Of course. Trying to butter up the big woman.
Clare: Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee, blessed art thou...
Erin: Oh, now you'll definitely pass!
Clare: It's worth a try!