Robert: [crying] Sure, I've put on a big show about how Ma loves Raymond better and Dad's an ogre, but they do take care of me!
Debra: Okay.
Robert: I've got a place to sleep, laundry, the food is unbelievable! Her lasagna, her pie, even something as simple as Cream of Wheat, which you wouldn't think would be different from one place to another. I don't know why, but hers is better.
Debra: Robert, l- I didn't mean to suggest-
Robert: Oh, my God! You know, maybe I never wanted to move out of there. What kind of a nutjob am I? Nutjob! Nutjob!
Debra: No, no! Robert, you're not.
Robert: You're right, Debra. You're right. Maybe- Maybe I don't wanna get better. I must love being the victim. Oh my God, I'm doing it right now! Look at me! I don't think I can stop, Debra. I don't think I'm ever gonna stop! Help me out of this! Please, help me out of this!
Debra: Robert, you're crushing me!

Debra: Robert, look. No, listen. You're not so... Listen, I feel sorry for myself too sometimes.
Robert: Not like me. I got issues.
Debra: No, I have my moments.
Robert: Yeah, you. Like what?
Debra: Like, um, okay. For instance, you know I grew up in a nice, normal family, I was used to people being a certain way. And then I married your brother, which is great, but they are over, every day, a lot! "Hello, dear." "Holy crap!" "Hello, dear." "Holy crap!" I mean, you know, on Friday, your mother was over nine times, in one day! Nine times! And at times like that it's hard for me not to say, "Why me?" You know, "Why me?" Why, why, why, why, why, why?

Robert: Well, I suppose you heard my wonderful news.
Debra: Yeah, three more weeks.
Robert: Three more weeks.
Debra: No, listen. [cheerful] Three more weeks.
Robert: Well, if you say it like that... Here, let me try. [cheerful] Bubonic plague.