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!

Ray: You know, you're not supposed to ask people who they vote for. That's why we folded our votes and put it in the shoebox with tape around it, and they locked it up in the school cafe-gym-a-torium as our forefathers did.

Robert: What do you want me to say? I need to do the wedding invitations. Amy wants me to do it, so I'm doing it. Come on, help me.
Ray: All right. Here's what you do: You- You write a version of the invitation, but you do a horrible job. Okay? She'll see it, do it herself, and never ask you to do anything else with this wedding. You're welcome.
Robert: But it's terrible, Raymond. I'm not gonna intentionally screw it up just to get out of the work.
Frank: Hey, dummy, listen to your stupid brother.
Ray: Look, look. When we got engaged, Debra put me in charge of the music. Okay. So I found a DJ. She wanted a band. So I found a band. She didn't like the band, so I found another band. Nope! The truth is, she wanted to do it, but she just got it in her head that I should be part of this whole wedding experience. So you know what I did? I sent over this guy who sang and played the accordion. He had a keyboard with violins and trumpets and drum noises. His name was "Zippers, the One-Man Wedding Band." Next thing you know, she tells me, "Never mind, she'll take care of the music." I sat down, turned on the TV and never looked back.
Frank: That's a beautiful story.

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."

Debra: God. I was so excited about her coming to visit, you know? I had this big wild fantasy. "Oh, my mother's coming. It's gonna be so nice."
Ray: Yeah, well, welcome to the club.
Debra: What club?
Ray: The Your-Mother-Comes-Over-And-It's-Not-So-Nice Club. And I'm not just a member. I'm also the president.

Frank: You're fine with your sons dressing up like fairies for all of Long Island to see?
Ray: First of all, it's not in front of all of Long Island, okay? There's 40 people in the school's cafe-gym-a-torium, all right? Second of all, do you hear yourself?! Aren't you embarrassed to talk that way?!
Frank: What way?!
Ray: You know! Your old stupid ideas that you and your lodge buddies sit around and laugh at between bouts of gas.
Frank: Don't say nothing about my lodge buddies!
Ray: Who, the guys you swim naked with?
Frank: That's lodge policy!
Ray: Yeah, all right. Is it "lodge policy" to force your opinions on other people? Look, they're my kids, I'll raise them the way I want to raise them.

Eileen: I was really impressed with what Michael wrote about in his book, weren't you?
Debra: Me? Uh, definitely. Oh, definitely. Um, but I do think that his book was... just a story. And, yes, obviously all stories do come from somewhere.
Ray: Well, not all of 'em.
Eileen: Hmm?
Ray: I was just thinkin' somethin'... I was just thinkin', some stories come from, like... Like those shows you go to where they say, "Give us a location!" And then the audience goes, "An elevator!" And then they say, "What language should we do?" or somethin'. And you yell, "French!" You know, and then they do a hilarious thing right there, you know. "Second floor... croissants!" You know? Yeah. They just... They make that stuff up right there on the spot. Yeah. So that would be one example where some stories do come from.
Eileen: Is- Is that what Michael did?
Ray: Probably not.

Marie: What I don't understand is, how did you both fall? Were you going down the stairs at the same time?
Ray: Yes, we were. That is indeed what we did do.
Marie: But why?
Ray: I don't know. It was kind of like a Jack and Jill situation. I went, and then she, you know... Came tumbling after.
Marie: I don't understand.
Ray: Well, there's no shame in that. We all get old.

Debra: Last week, I sent you for a simple garden hose. You came home with that tiny thing. It's totally useless.
Ray: What? That's a good hose.
Debra: It's two feet long. The water doesn't even reach the plants!
Ray: So you squirt it over there. Use your thumb, that's what people do.
Debra: Just so you know, that hose is goin' back.
Ray: Oh, that's it right there.
Debra: What?
Ray: That is how you get your way. "Just so you know." Yeah, yeah. "Just so you know, Ray, we're getting the flower drapes." "Just so you know, Ray, I ordered the boring couch without the footrests." "And, Ray, we're going to move in across the street from your parents, just so you know." Yeah, that's right. I remember saying, "No, no. In the name of all that is holy, no!" But look where we are. Nice work! Sorry I'm coming on a little strong, but the truth has set me free.

Ray: I had Lickety-Split, but she forced me to trade it for Peetie's muffler place. And then she gets Marco's, the best spot!
Debra: How did she force you?
Ray: How? She ripped it out of my hand... I'm lucky I have a hand still. Let me tell you something, this lady doesn't know who she's dealing with, okay? I'm gonna take this cookie sign-up sheet to work. I'll hang it up at Madison Square Garden. Yeah. [chuckles] Little Miss Peggy won't know what hit her. I'll be bringing home that sweet, sweet beach chair.
Debra: Ray, Ally should sell her own cookies. That's how we've always done it in the past.
Ray: Yeah, and that's why every time we go to the beach we gotta sit in the freakin' sand, okay? No, uh-uh. No more. No more, baby. Let Peggy clean the sand outta her behind!