Agent Garfield: Mrs. Barone, you seem like an intelligent woman.
Marie: Thank you. Have a cookie.
Agent Garfield: Do you really think that a mother interfering to the extent that you have could possibly help a man get a job with the FBI? There's something else going on.
Marie: He was supposed to retire! He's a year away from not being a police officer. Which means I could stop worrying about him every second of the day. I want him to be safe. Now he wants to go from one dangerous job to another? How long do I have to walk around with a knot in my stomach? Forever? I can't do it anymore. It's too much! But he wants this job. It'll make him happy. And he should be happy. So, yes, he should have this job. Please, give him this job.
Agent Garfield: I can't do that.
Marie: No. No, don't blame him, you can punish me! Put one of those tracking things on my legs so I can't get out of the house. And if you met my husband, you'd know that's punishment enough.

Marie: Raymond, do you see what they see?
Ray: Um... I don't know.
Marie: No, tell me the truth.
Ray: Well... Maybe if I squint a little.
Marie: Oh, my God, I'm a lesbian!

Debra: First of all, it's not a book. It's pieces of construction paper.
Ray: You sound a bit close-minded.
Debra: Hey. Eileen, you have no idea what I have to put up with. When I got married, I didn't just get a husband, I got a whole freak show that set up their tent right across the street. And that- That would be fine, if they stayed there. But every day... Every day, they dump a truckload of their insane family dreck into my lap. How would you like to sit through two people in their 60s fighting over who invented the lawn? The lawn! And then the brother, "I live in an apartment. I don't even have a lawn. Raymond has a lawn." But you can't blame him when you see who the mother is. She has this kind of sick hold on the both of them. And the father's about as disgusting a creature as God has ever dropped onto this planet. So no wonder the kid writes stories! I should be writing stories. My life is a Gothic novel! And until you have lived in that house, with all of them in there with you day after day, week after week, year after friggin' year, you are in no position to judge me!

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!

Robert: [clears throat] Uh, if I may... You mentioned, Father Hubley, that I was not included in that book, and that is a very astute observation. And I do believe that my unique position in this... family, as that of an outsider, allows me to view this hodgepodge of life from a rather unique vantage point.
Ray: Top of a beanstalk?
Robert: And I do maintain that if anyone is to blame, Father, for this river of pent-up hostility that runs through this sorry bunch like you-know-what through a we-know-what... that person goes by the name... of Raymond.
Ray: Oh, sit down, you dope.
Robert: He is and always has been the center... the center of attention, the center of affection, he always gets the center chair in the kitchen. And this anger of which you speak, from the rest of these poor souls, stems from his unwillingness to share even the tiniest portion of the spotlight that shines, without end... on him.