Debra: You have to admit, you're not the most professorial kind of guy.
Ray: I can be exceedingly professorial.
Debra: No, I know. I was just remembering that time you read the word "stohma-cha-chuh."
Ray: What's your point?
Debra: You read "stohma-cha-chuh." And the word really is...
Ray: Stomachache.
Debra: I am just teasing you.
Ray: Yeah, right.
Debra: No, come on. Kiss me again. For once, I don't have a "heada-cha-chuh."

Amy: Go ahead, Robert.
Robert: Uh, Raymond, your success is your success and not my failure. And so as any good brother should be, I am happy for you.
Frank: Both my sons are whipped!
Robert: However, Raymond, if anybody should get credit for your success, it should be me.
Amy: Robert!
Robert: That's right! Admit it! You owe your success to the pathological desire you've always had to be better than me!
Ray: What?
Robert: That's right. Remember in school? I was the writer on the paper. Before you even knew how to pick up a pencil, I had my own column, "The View from Up Here."
Ray: You've gotta be kidding me!

Marie: So, you just cast aside the mother. Let me tell you. It didn't start with a smile. It started with 19 hours of horrible labor.
Frank: But before that, there was a smile.
Marie: Also horrible.