Ray: That's really-
Debra: Really kind of sweet.
Ray: Sweet? What, that? They're not talking.
Debra: Well, it's like they don't have to.
Ray: I don't think it's 'cause they don't have to. I think it's 'cause they don't want to.
Debra: I don't know. They seemed so in tune.
[Ray and Debra return to the living room to observe Frank and Marie through the serving window. The pair are eating their sandwiches in silence, staring off in different directions]
Ray: I see cows.

Ray: Let me ask you something. If one was asked to read a book called "Devil Wood," one would be correct in assuming that the book was scary or exciting or had something "devilly" in it, wouldn't one?
Robert: One would.
Ray: Well, then one would be wrong.
Robert: What's going on, Raymond?
Ray: Debra wants me to read this so we have stuff in common. But I swear to God, this sucker's like a horse tranquilizer. Here, listen to this. Listen to this first line. "Imagine a rain so beautiful it must never have existed." What does that mean? What does that mean? Tell me, right now, what does that mean?
Robert: [chuckles] I don't know.
Ray: Yeah. Because it's nonsense talk. You have to close this book.

Debra: You know what? We have nothing to say to each other. All we do is talk about the kids, or tell stories we've heard over and over and over.
Ray: What stories?
Debra: Robert swallowing that damn bee. I've heard that stupid story a million times, every time you see honey or a bee or a person with a puffy face.
Ray: Yeah, that's a million.
Debra: Or how about the time your dad put a possum in your tent during a camping trip and you literally jumped out of your skin?
Ray: What? It was scary.
Debra: Yeah, that's not literally. You literally jump out of your skin, you're dead. Body out of skin, dead.
Ray: How about you? You're always telling me about the story where you wore purple shoes and your feet sweated, and they turned purple. "It was like I was making wine." That's not funny.
Debra: I know. See? We have nothing to talk about and you don't even care.