Debra: Here.
Ray: What's this?
Debra: A little something I worked up last night.
Ray: "Laundry, $75 a week. General housecleaning, $200 a week."
Ray: What is this, a bill?
Debra: That's right.
Ray: "Full time child care, a thousand dollars a week."
Debra: Yeah, I gave you a break on that one. I billed the twins as one item.
Ray: So, you're charging me now, to be the wife?
Debra: Well, if it's all your money, then "the wife" should get paid.
Ray: Uh-huh. "Personal chef, $300." Yeah, I think we're using the word "chef" pretty loosely.

Robert: Your life made possible by a grant from the Marie Barone Foundation.

Debra: What?
Marie: Well, just looking through some of these housekeeping things you claim you do. I think maybe I'm entitled to some of this money.
Ray: Well, looks like someone's padding the bill.
Debra: Look, Ray, I can't help it if people break in here and clean.

Robert: Actually, Raymond, the best way to determine the value of someone's life is with a wrongful death settlement.
Debra: Oh, good. Good, 'cause we're about to have one.
Robert: No, really. I dated a wrongful death claims adjuster. And it was her job to figure out what a jury would award a family if a loved one were killed in an accident. In other words, what they were worth. It was fascinating to see what she had to consider. Too morbid for a second date, but fascinating.

Robert: Like they consider what kind of person you were. Take Dad, for example. Let's say someone dropped a piano on him.
Marie: Okay.
Robert: A jury would be asked to consider what kind of life he led. Was he a happy person? Did he bring joy to others? Did he stop and smell the roses?
Frank: Yes, yes and yes.
Marie: You don't enjoy life! You spend three hours every afternoon locked in the bathroom.
Frank: Hiding from you. That's how I enjoy life!

Debra: Marie, how can you let him talk that way?
Marie: Frank can say whatever he wants, he never controlled the money. When he brought home a paycheck, I did whatever I wanted with it.
Ray: What are you talking about? Dad had no idea about that.
Marie: Well, no, sometimes he'd get nosy. But I'd make him a heavy dinner and then he'd fall asleep on the couch and I started moving the money around.
Robert: Diabolical.
Marie: It's amazing how clueless he is. Do you know that for more than 30 years I've been giving money to buy books for children in South America? You think your father would have approved of that?
Robert: He didn't like buying us books.

Ray: Hey, there, Miss Teen USA.
Debra: Hey.
Ray: Hey. What are those, new sheets in the bed? Those look nice.
Debra: They're not new.
Ray: Oh. Well, something about 'em looks nice. Maybe it's the person in 'em.
Debra: What are you after, Ray? Sex or golf?

Ray: So you wanna get back in the sheets where you look so nice?
Debra: I can't believe you did this!
Ray: Okay, listen, I screwed up. Okay, but it's my money to screw up with.
Debra: What did you say?
Ray: "With which to screw up"?
[Debra takes her pillow and a blanket off the bed and heads for the door]
Ray: What? What did I say?
[Debra returns to the bed and takes Ray's pillow, the comforter, the mattress cover, and a pillow covering a box.]
Ray: If you're doing a load, I got some socks!

Ray: I have a good sense of humor.
Marie: That is true. Tell one of your jokes, dear.
Ray: What? Which one?
Marie: Oh, tell the one about the guy who goes into a bar, and there's a dish of peanuts that says nice things to him. And he asks the bartender "What's with these peanuts?" And the bartender says "They're complimentary." [laughs] Tell that one, dear.
Ray: You you just told it, Ma.
Marie: No, no. You tell it so funny.
Ray: You just told the ending, Ma.
Marie: Well, tell the beginning. I love it when you-
Ray: Ma, I'm not telling the joke because you blew the punch line! You understand that?
Marie: All right, all right!
Debra: What a zest for life.
Ray: She said "They're complimentary"! That's the whole joke!

Frank: Ah, stop defending yourself. You bring home the paycheck. Whoever brings home the money is the king. End of story.
Ray: Well put, Father.
Frank: You see? He can do whatever he wants with the money.
Debra: Ugh. Marie, doesn't that bother you?
Frank: She has no choice in the matter. I am the king. And now, His Majesty will retire to his castle, where he will await the royal grilled cheese sandwich. [to Robert] Come, oaf! You amuse me.
Robert: I'll see you in hell.