Debra: That's why I want to go to counseling. I don't think it's that you're just lazy. I think there's a deeper reason behind this, and if we could just figure it out, you and I could be happier.
Ray: Come on, you know me. There's not much deepness. I just... I like to be taken care of.
Debra: You gotta understand, Ray, that that's not a wife. That's a mother.
Ray: Well, maybe that's what I want!
Frank: Holy crap!

Marie: So that's how you both fell? A race around the house, which you often do as a tradition?
Ray: Uh, yeah.
Frank: Stupid, humped-up termite trap!
[Frank falls through the stairs into the basement]
Marie: Oh, my God! Frank, are you all right?
Frank: [o.s.] Holy crap!
Marie: Don't move, I'm coming right down!
Frank: [o.s.] I'm in enough pain!

Amy: Sorry we took so long, but listen to this. While we were waiting for our order in the bar, Robert got discovered!
Debra: Oh, what do you mean?
Ray: Discovered as in, "Hey, I found Bigfoot"?

Marie: We noticed your lights were on.
Amy: Guess what?
Marie: What?
Amy: Robert signed with a modeling agent.
Frank: All right, what's the punch line?
Robert: No joke, Dad. William Dennison of the William Dennison Modeling Agency felt that I had potential as a model, and, uh, I've decided to fulfill it.
Marie: Oh, Robert, that's wonderful! Oh! Even as a baby, you were always a looker.
Frank: I always thought he was more of a "Look at that."

Ray: No, Robert. This is what they want. God forbid you should feel good about yourself. This family is so negative, and I'm sick of it!
Marie: It's not him. It's the photos.
Ray: It's you! And you! And you, and you, and even you!
Robert: You're losin' me, man.
Ray: All of you. You're giver-uppers and put-er-downers.
Debra: Ray, where you going?
Ray: I know some sports people, and they do some modeling and have agents, and I'd like a second opinion. So you can all just stay here in your little suburban suburbia where everything is in focus and nobody's head is cut off! [exits]
Robert: Raymond really believes in me.