Gerry: Are you a woman?
Joe: What kind of a bloody question is that? Smart hole.
Gerry: OK, you seem to have a bit of a problem grasping the concept here, Joe.
Joe: I'll tell you what I'll not have trouble grasping. Your neck.
Mary: Ach, isn't this lovely?

Gerry: Who was that?
Mary: No idea.
Aunt Sarah: Don't know her from Adam.
Gerry: So why did you pretend that you did?
Aunt Sarah: We could hardly break the girl, Gerry.
Joe: That's the trouble with you Dubliners. You've no manners.
Gerry: I'm not from Dublin, Joe.
Joe: Is he not?
Gerry: I'm from Navan.
Joe: Sure that's worse.
Gerry: How is that worse?
Joe: I don't know, but it's not better.

Michelle: How much longer are we going to be stuck here? This is unbearable.
Erin: It's been a minute, Michelle. Like 60 seconds.
Michelle: I am so fucking bored.
Orla: Oh. I know this really cracker game.
James: Yeah?
Orla: I think of a number and you all have to guess what it is.
Erin: Orla, we're not going to sit here guessing numbers.
Michelle: 7.
James: 21.
Orla: No. No.
Michelle: 88.
Orla: No.
Michelle: 2,035.
Orla: [breathes in] No.

Erin: Or we could just, you know, talk.
Michelle: Talk?
Erin: Yes, Michelle, talk, like normal people, who are normal.
Michelle: We ran out of things to talk about in 1993, Erin.

Erin: There's lots we could talk about.
James: Like?
Erin: Like our hopes, our ambitions, our dreams.
Orla: OK, so last night there was this lion chasing me, but it had wee, tiny legs. It was a full size lion but it had the legs of a sausage dog.
Erin: Not those type of dreams, Orla.

Erin: I mean our dreams for the future. What lives do we want to live? What legacy do we hope to leave? Yes, James, go on.
James: Oh, sorry. I thought I was going to sneeze, but I lost it.
Erin: Fine. We'll just sit here in silence then. Is that what you want?
James: It's not a bad idea, actually.
Michelle: Suits me.
Orla: I'll just think in my own head.
Erin: Clare would have talked.
Orla: Sh.

Clare: [clears throat]
Sister Michael: Here we go.
Clare: Ah. Sister Michael. Hi.
Sister Michael: Clare.
Clare: I wasn't sure you saw me.
Sister Michael: No, no, I did.
Clare: Right. Heading to Portrush?
Sister Michael: Yep.
Clare: Anything nice planned?
Sister Michael: No.
Clare: OK.

Tara: [on the phone] I just don't see the point. Can't we just move on? All right, Conor. The truth is, you never satisfied me sexually.
Clare: [to herself] Oh, please no.

Mary: And what about you? How's your... do you... have you?
Gerry: [quietly] Playing with fire there, Mary.
Mary: Are you still, you know, are you not, you know?
Aideen: You don't have to beat around the bush, Mary.
Mary: Well, I do a bit.
Aideen: I'm still single.
Mary: Ah.
Aideen: Sure, who'd take me on?
Aunt Sarah: Don't say that. You're a fine-looking woman.
Aideen: Stop it.
Aunt Sarah: I'm serious. You could slice your hand on those cheekbones.

Michelle: What is taking you so long, dick splash?
James: This isn't my bag.
Erin: Are you sure?
James: Unless I forgot the fact that I packed a shit-ton of cash and a gun.
Erin: What?
Orla: And a pair of pliers, some hairspray, a toothbrush, and one of those wee face hats.
Michelle: A face hat? [Orla puts on the balaclava]
Erin: Jesus Christ, Orla. [grabs the balaclava]
Orla: [gasps] And a bag of Tayto.
Michelle: What flavour?
Orla: Salt and vinegar.