Debra: Marie, I said something stupid to Frank, but that doesn't mean I think I'm better than him.
Marie: Methinks thou doth protest...
Debra: Oh, don't say, "Methinks thou doth protest too much."
Marie: All right. I won't say it but methinks it.

Debra: Why did you tell me it was only once a year?
Marie: Because this whole topic is improper. What we do in our bedroom is our own business. And I prefer not to be known as the whore of Lynbrook.
Frank: We can move from Lynbrook.
Debra: You know, I don't understand, Marie. What are you so ashamed of?
Frank: She's ashamed to admit she likes it.
Marie: Oh, Frank. How do you know I like it?
Frank: Well, who wouldn't like it? Why don't you just admit it, Marie.
Marie: Yes, it's true. I enjoy my sex life. All right? Okay? I mean, forgive me, but in my day a woman didn't discuss these things. I mean, sex was a wifely duty. And the truth of the matter is that your father happens to be very competent. And it's obvious that I'm a woman. And I have needs like any other woman. Maybe I shouldn't be ashamed of sex because it's a very natural part of life. And if I'm lucky enough to still enjoy the pleasures of it, then I'm going to.

Debra: I cannot take this anymore. Okay, you make a huge mess, you don't help me at all, you invite your friends over to drive me crazy all day, and all you can think of is, "Oh, she must have PMS. Let's just load her up with drugs."
Ray: No, it's got St. Johns worts in it.
Debra: I can't believe you. If there's ever anything wrong, it's PMS, huh? I don't know what to do! Sometimes I just want to smack you!
[As Ray turns around with a grin on his face, Marie slaps him]
Marie: Debra's right, Raymond. I'm sorry.
Ray: You smacked me.
Marie: I know I did. I'm sorry.
Ray: W- W- What did you do that for?
Marie: It's just that it sounds like you're becoming just like your father. [slaps Ray again]
Ray: What are you doing?
Marie: I don't know. I don't know. It's just that he was so awful during my... ladies' days. Anytime I happened to make a comment about his usual disgusting behavior, he would just blame it on that.
Debra: That's what Ray does.
Marie: That's what they all do.

Marie: That's what you said about everything. "How was school today?" "Eh..." "Did you finish lunch?" "Eh..." "What about the other boys? Did they like your outfit today?" "Eh..." You didn't leave me much choice.
Ray: So you're perfectly fine with this? You don't think you've done anything wrong?
Marie: I was just trying to be a good mother. I mean, if you can't see that, and I see that you can't... I mean, obviously you feel that I stepped over some "boundaries". Then I want to apologize, Raymond. No, really, I mean it. I'm sorry, Raymond.
Ray: All right, then. So, are there pancakes?
Marie: That's it? You don't have anything to say to me?
Ray: What? What do you mean?
Marie: I just apologized for doing something that apparently offended you, and you have nothing to say to me?
Ray: Thank you.
Marie: "Thank you"? I see. So you think that you're innocent in all of this?
Ray: Yeah.
Marie: Fine. It's just fine, Raymond. But let me tell you something, you may have written that diary, but I had to read it!

Marie: I had the television on and a commercial for some sports program came on, and it said that Raymond was gonna be on it.
Robert: Oh my God!
Marie: But he never told me. And I started to wonder why I have to hear about it on TV instead of him telling me.
Robert: So you burned my lucky suit?!
Marie: I was distracted. Did he tell you anything about being on a sports program?
Robert: Who cares?!
Marie: Don't yell at me. The person we should be upset with is Raymond.

Debra: Come on, Robert, she does not.
Ray: Oh, what is it about you that you don't believe me when I tell you? She sat right there at your dinner table and ate a fly!
Marie: I could believe that.
Ray: No, Mom, it wasn't in the food.
Marie: Oh. I don't believe that.

Marie: Don't listen to him, Raymond. You and I are not like him.
Frank: What are you talking about? You hate plenty of people.
Marie: I do not hate people, Frank.
Frank: Oh, yeah? What about my mother? You hated her like poison.
Marie: First of all, I did not hate her. I felt sorry for her.
Frank: What about Harriet Lichtman?
Marie: I find Harriet Lichtman's flirtatious behavior towards you distasteful, but I do not hate that slut.

Marie: So one day, after months of the spoon and the fork just sitting on the counter, we had a big fight. It was our first fight as husband and wife.
Debra: Wow. The shot heard 'round the world.
Marie: Finally, I told him, "I'm going to my mother's and when I get back, you'd better be the only ugly thing left in this house." And when I got home he was sitting right here, and he had nailed the spoon to the wall.
Debra: Whoa!
Marie: He thought he had won. You see what I did?
Debra: Ah, very clever.
Marie: And notice the fork is higher. And they've been there ever since. Every time I come into this kitchen, it reminds me of that fight. Every day for 45 years.
Debra: Wow, I'm shocked. You two seem so happy.
Marie: Trust me, dear. It's not worth it. Go. Go move the luggage. You be the better person. Hmm? Don't let a suitcase filled with cheese be your big fork and spoon.

Marie: You two, you're newlyweds, you're in love. God bless you, you know nothing. And you two, you're always fighting. And the reason you get so upset is because you think there's something wrong with that. Look at us. This is experience. This is wisdom.
Frank: [eating chicken] This is juicy.
Marie: You want some real marriage advice? I'm going to give you the secret now: There's going to be yelling.
There's going to be anger. Don't fight it. Accept it. You love him. You hate him. He disgusts you. Look how he eats. You keep your head down, and you plow through.
Frank: Amen.
Amy: But Marie, you said "hate". How can hate have any place in a marriage?
Marie: You make room. There's going to be hate. Hate is real. Marriage is real. We might fight, but we're okay with each other. And do you know why? We've endured. We have been through it all, and now...
Frank: We're waiting for death.
Marie: Not that we're in a rush.
Frank: Fair enough.
Marie: That's a marriage.

Marie: And now I'd like to inquire as to the whereabouts of my possessions my sofa and my piano.
Robert: They're in the basement.
Marie: Ah the basement. So, I'm not gone a month and my 100-year-old, priceless Bulgarian upright piano is in the basement. And has been replaced by you... with this.
Robert: Do you even know what that is, Ma?
Marie: Yes, I do know what that is! I may be an ancient relic as far as you're concerned, but I'm still able to know what things are! This is a sex machine.
Robert: Ma!