Robert: I was hip to Ma. I had two diaries. The one for her was a decoy.
Ray: You kept two sets of books?
Robert: Yeah, the one I let her find had stuff in it that I knew she'd want to read, like, um... how good her eggplant parmigiana was, and how her punishments were fair and just and about how I wanted to marry someone just like her.
Ray: A fake diary. You kept a fake diary. That's sick.
Robert: Yep, and I kept it in the first place I'd knew she'd look, under my mattress.
Ray: That's where I kept mine.
Robert: Unfortunate.

Marie: I just want to ask you something. Do you ever have any doubts about how good a mother you are?
Debra: Yes, of course-
Marie: No, no, I mean severe doubts. And have you any idea what it's like to be married to a husband who never helps you at all?
Debra: Go ahead.
Marie: And when you go to him for support, he only enhances those doubts? That was my life. Imagine little Michael, who loves you, who lights up whenever you get near him. Imagine him at 14, and he doesn't talk to you anymore. And you don't want to push him, so you just give him more love. And then one night you make him his favorite dinner, and you try to give him a kiss good night, and he goes up the stairs with a grunt. And you come across his journal, and you open it, and it says, "I hate my Mom." I wouldn't wish that on you, Debra.
Debra: Ray.
Ray: What?
Debra: Apologize to your mother.
Ray: I- I already did.
Debra: Do it again!

Marie: That's what you said about everything. "How was school today?" "Eh..." "Did you finish lunch?" "Eh..." "What about the other boys? Did they like your outfit today?" "Eh..." You didn't leave me much choice.
Ray: So you're perfectly fine with this? You don't think you've done anything wrong?
Marie: I was just trying to be a good mother. I mean, if you can't see that, and I see that you can't... I mean, obviously you feel that I stepped over some "boundaries". Then I want to apologize, Raymond. No, really, I mean it. I'm sorry, Raymond.
Ray: All right, then. So, are there pancakes?
Marie: That's it? You don't have anything to say to me?
Ray: What? What do you mean?
Marie: I just apologized for doing something that apparently offended you, and you have nothing to say to me?
Ray: Thank you.
Marie: "Thank you"? I see. So you think that you're innocent in all of this?
Ray: Yeah.
Marie: Fine. It's just fine, Raymond. But let me tell you something, you may have written that diary, but I had to read it!

Ray: Oh, I'm just remembering the stuff I used to write in it.
Robert: Go ahead.
Ray: You know, like I had a grown-up dream once of my homeroom teacher Mrs. Hustwick.
Robert: Oh, I remember her. Lusty Husty. So Ma read that. It's not a big deal.
Ray: And then I had the chart.
Robert: What do you mean? Chart for what?
Ray: For a while, I used to measure... things.
Robert: [chuckles] Ma read that, huh? That is pretty bad.

Ray: Listen, Ma, about the journal I want to apologize for what you saw in there. Um... Could you not look at me while I say this?
Marie: All right.
Ray: Um... You know, when you're 14, the world is a very confusing and sexy place. [Marie looks at him] Ma, come on.
Marie: Oh. [turns away]
Ray: So I just want you to know that I outgrew all that stuff, okay? And I don't do that stuff anymore, hardly. So I'm sorry that you had to see that, and I just want you to know that I'm not still some kind of weirdo, all right? So I'm gonna go take a shower and maybe you want to do the same.

Marie: Raymond. Raymond, do you think I'm a prude?
Ray: What?
Marie: Do you think all that stuff is why I'm upset, what you did as a teenager? I don't care about your happy dreams.
Ray: All right, Ma.
Marie: Or where you have your little hair.
Ray: Ma, stop it!
Marie: Or how you went into my sewing kit for my measuring tape.
Ray: Oh, God!

Ray: Please stop talking!
Marie: No, I will not. As if you've forgotten... October 9th, 1974.
Ray: I have to forget everything now.
Marie: Did you forget what you wrote on October 9th?
Ray: I don't know! What? You still have that? Gimme it!
Marie: No, no, no. No.
Ray: No, gimme it, gimme it, Ma!
Marie: "October 9th, 1974." A single entry on this particular day. "Not much to report, except I e-hat my Mom."
Ray: That's it?
Marie: There's nothing else on the page. No reason for it before or after. Just here between "I dropped a pencil to look up Mrs. Hustwick's dress," and "Today Mrs. Hustwick caught me doing the pencil thing." Just this sentence. No exclamation point after, like you were having some sort of a tantrum. It's just written like a fact. "I e-hat my Mom."

Ray: I don't get it. How did my mom know about that? I never told anyone about Tammy Gellis. Only way my mom could have found out about it is if she read my journal or something.
Debra: You kept a diary? Oh my gosh. I didn't know that. That is so sweet.
Ray: It wasn't a diary. It was a journal.
Debra: Oh, sorry. "Dear diary, another girl beat me up today."
Ray: Oh, yeah, it's all just all a barrel of giggles to you, right?
Debra: Aw.
Ray: Come on, you think my mom really did read my journal?
Debra: Oh, honey, what's so surprising? She would ride a Q-tip into your brain if she could.

Ray: You read my journal.
Marie: What? What- What journal?
Ray: Oh, "What journal?" The journal that I kept as a kid. How else would you know about n-baco and Tammy Gellis?
Marie: What? What are you talking about?
Ray: Are you saying that you never read my journal?
Marie: I didn't even know you had a journal.
Ray: Yes, you did, and you read every word of it!
Marie: Raymond, I never read your journal!
Ray: Dad, did Mom ever read my journal?
Marie: All right, I read your journal!
Ray: Ah-ha-ha-ha!

Ray: I was just at your mother's house. Anything she's ever done to you, I can top it.
Robert: Left me at a gas station in Arizona?
Ray: She came back.
Robert: Conceived me out of wedlock?
Ray: Oh, yeah yeah, you're a big victim. Listen to this. 25 years ago, I kept a journal. She used to read it every day.
Robert: The dungaree one.
Ray: Did you read it?
Robert: Yeah, Raymond, I read your diary. I wasn't getting enough of you.