Debra: It's really a shame. Gus was a sweet guy. Remember how he always wanted to read everything you wrote?
Ray: Yeah, and he gave me a gold pen when I graduated. I always felt like I was his grandson.
Frank: He wants you to deliver his eulogy.
Ray: What?! I hardly knew the guy.
Frank: It was his dying wish.
Robert: Even dead people love Raymond.

Marie: You understand, Ray. I know you do. You're sensitive, artistic... [Robert coughs] You don't have to be sensitive, dear. You're big.

Marie: Did your father send you?
Ray: No, I wanted to come. I won the bet to come.
Marie: He hates it when I cry. It reminds him of our wedding night.

Marie: Shame, shame, shame.
Aunt Alda: Hello, Marie.
Ray: Isn't this nice, you two? You're back together.
Marie: You can kiss my son, but you can't send a wedding present? Your lips should dry into raisins. Oops, too late.

Aunt Alda: Raymond, that was beautiful. Simple and touching.
Marie: It was more than beautiful. It was extremely beautiful.
Aunt Alda: What is your problem, Marie? I can't even say a word without you topping me.
Marie: I can't help it, you're easily topped.
Aunt Alda: You're a bitter woman, Marie. You're a bitter, bleached-blonde woman.
Marie: Oh, you're just jealous of human hair.

Frank: [enters] You know your front door is locked?
Ray: Yeah, we thought it would keep out the bad people.
Robert: You think evil cares about a lock?

Frank: Ray, I've got some news. I don't know the best way to break this. Your great uncle Gus? Dead.
Ray: Oh, no. I liked him.
Robert: Yeah, me, too. Hey, nuts.
Ray: Deb, Uncle Gus died.
Debra: Oh, that's terrible. What happened?
Frank: He had a heart attack. He was 94.
Robert: We still haven't ruled out foul play.

Debra: Get up. I'll take a look. It's not that hard. You just have to know how to put the right spin on things. Just tell me something about Gus.
Ray: What's to tell? For the last 30 years he sat in front of the television with a bowl of baked beans.
Debra: [types] He was a great patron of the arts and a gourmet. Tell me something else.
Ray: He could belch the alphabet to the letter "M."
Debra: A man of letters.
Ray: Hey, you're very talented.
Debra: Thank you.

Frank: It's your mother. She won't stop crying about this Alda business.
Ray: So why are you here?
Frank: Well, somebody's got to talk to her.
Debra: Well, you're her husband. What's wrong with you?
Frank: She says I don't understand her.
Debra: Well, why don't you go talk to her?
Frank: Because I don't understand her. Ray, you go.
Ray: No, Dad. I got work to do here. Big eulogy coming up.
Frank: What, you don't care how much your mother suffers? Or if I starve?
Ray: Oh, you're starving?
Frank: Hey, you know your mother. When she gets upset, she doesn't cook. When she doesn't cook, I don't eat. You do the math.

Ray: Hey, Ma. Maybe you should come to the funeral. You know, just to say goodbye to Gus.
Marie: Be in the same room with Alda? Not even if it was your own father rotting in that casket. Fruit?
Ray: Hey, Ma, what's with these pictures, Ma? Where are Alda's heads?
Marie: [holding a bag] In here, where they belong.
Ray: Ma! Are you gonna use her heads to coat chicken?