Robert: So, trouble in paradise?
Debra: Oh, no, it's just that... Eh, why would you wanna hear me complain about Ray?
Robert: Perhaps we haven't met. I'm Robert Barone.

Marie: I'll tell you what jar of fat. It was beautiful. It was fat from pancetta and golden brown sausage. You'd have to be a cook to understand. But it was months of carefully selecting only the best drippings to prepare meals for Il Duce.
Frank: Yeah, you made all those meals just for me and then you went out jogging.
Marie: That was my kitchen! You had no right to go in there and throw out my fat!
Frank: That jar was for my coins. I needed that!
Marie: You're selfish!
Frank: Fat collector!
Marie: Oh, you never appreciated me ever! Never! You never ever appreciated me! I would work my fingers to the bone all day with the kids with the cooking and the cleaning and the laundry, and then you'd waltz in with your list of demands and not even a thank you.

Frank: Ray, I am gonna give you the secret to marital bliss.
Marie: After you give it to him, why don't you let me in on it?
Frank: You see, son, when your mother got pregnant with Robert, the hormones turned her into a nutcase. She'd cry for no reason. Two seconds later, she'd want to cuddle. She was, like, demented.
Marie: That's not true.
Frank: Sure it was. You were always grabbing at me.
Marie: I was pregnant with a 14lb baby. I needed help getting up.
Frank: Nonetheless. Did it bother me? No. Because you cannot get upset with a crazy person. I decided from that day on to never waste time trying to understand your mother. I just accept she's insane.
Marie: I must be.