Robert: How could they not like the toaster?
Ray: They didn't even open it. They traded it in. Ungrateful mental cases.
Debra: You know, maybe the question here isn't, "Why don't they ever like my presents?" but rather, "Why do I so desperately need their approval?"
Robert: Ah!
Ray: Oh, shut up! Shut up! How would you feel?
Robert: How would I feel? Maybe you'd like to read my book: "You're in the Way: The Robert Barone Story." He doesn't need their approval, sis. He's got it to a fault. He's the beloved one.

Marie: We're just checking these.
Sales Clerk: I can assure you they're all exactly like the display model.
Marie: See, here's one where the pamphlet's a little folded.
Frank: What are you doing? That's not a believable complaint.
Marie: It's perfectly valid.
Frank: Can't you ever just be quiet?
Marie: Don't you tell me to be quiet! I have a mind of my own, you know? I can contribute. I'm not just some trophy wife!
Frank: You're a trophy wife? What contest in hell did I win?

Ray: What about the Fruit-of-the-Month club?
Marie: Oh, well, that was insane! A year of fruit? You know they still send me flyers wanting me to rejoin? And pictures of apricots! How is that supposed to make me feel?
Ray: How you feel? How about how I feel? You ever think of that?
Marie: Well, honey, we are the ones who have to get these presents.

Ray: It's not about toast! My gift had meaning. Everyone else loves the toaster! Everyone else! Everyone! Who are you people?! You know what? Any time I've ever given you a present, it's never been any good.
Marie: That's not true, Dear.
Ray: No? The microwave.
Marie: Well, that... We didn't need a microwave.
Frank: And they're dangerous. What if I wanted to have more children?
Ray: If God hasn't stopped you, the government will.

Frank: Hello. And a merry Christmas to you!
Clerk: Merry Christmas.
Frank: May our Lord and Savior bestow many blessings upon you and your loved ones.
Clerk: Thank you. I'm Jewish.
Frank: Oh. All these people must be a pain in the ass, huh?
Marie: Frank, don't say that!
Frank: Let me do it my way.
Clerk: Are you returning this?
Frank: Yes, we are. It unfortunately is a piece of crap.

Warren: Raymond, more wassail?
Ray: Uh, yeah, okay. Thanks.
Warren: I'm glad you like it. It's an old recipe from a Scottish brothel. Dates back to the 12th century. There's actual peat moss in it! [Ray picks out of his teeth] And, as the Welsh say, lechyd da!
Debra: Hey!
Ray: Brushum-feltya! I just made that up.

Ray: I'm a doofus, okay? I admit it. Come on, who am I kidding? Look at me. I'm a goofy doofus with a foofy toaster.
Debra: What?
Ray: Look, it's fine, all right? I'm not blaming anyone. I don't know, you could have married better. [sighs] I don't know. Merry Christmas, honey. Good night. [staring at the toaster] Oh God! Look at the size of my nose!

Robert: The whole family got one?
Ray: Yeah, and a couple of friends too.
Robert: They're all gonna love it. Just what you need, Raymond: more love.
Ray: Yeah, hey, no more complaints from you. You know what I'm talking about? Listen, what did Mom and Dad say about the toaster?
Robert: Oh, we're heading back there now. I only got them a soft toilet seat. I guess I'll... I guess I'm gonna have to, I don't know, write a poem on it.

Debra: Hey, Ray, guess what? Three more messages on the machine. Gayle, Andy, Linda, all loved the toaster!
Ray: Yeah, still nothing from my parents. I gave it to them on the 23rd. It's the 26th and they haven't called or stopped by.
Debra: You know what that's called?
Ray: What?
Debra: A merry Christmas!
Ray: I don't get it. You give them a present, you'll think that...
Marie: [enters] Hi!
Debra: Hi! [quietly] Time to take down the tree.

Frank: Aspirin.
Ray: Yeah, it's coming. Listen-
Frank: Bad Christmas. I danced with your mother.
Ray: She said it was the trash can.
Frank: I traded up to the trash can.