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.