Marie: You're leaving the children to strangers?
Ray: Ma, Bernie and Linda aren't strangers.
Marie: Please. Please, you don't owe me any explanation. They're your children. It's your life, isn't it?
Ray: That's been the dream.
Marie: Well, I don't want to keep you. I just came over to try to, you know, help.
Ray: Ma, if Bernie and Linda drop dead, you're on deck!
Debra: Well, thank you. And that's for the children. Tell them it's from... a friend. [exits, returns] You know, actually, this could be a good lesson for me. To learn to be content with what is and not to hope for what could be.
Debra: So what could be is us dying and you raising our children?
Marie: Well, not anymore.

Debra: We had to pick guardians for the kids.
Frank: And it's not us?
Marie: No.
Frank: Okay.
Ray: What, you wouldn't have wanted the kids?
Frank: Would you?

Frank: Where's the whipped cream?
Debra: Marie, please try to understand.
Marie: I understand. You prefer to give your children to gypsies instead of me.
Frank: Cheer up, Marie, we just dodged three screaming bullets. Hey, did he take the pudding? Hey! Pudding! [exits]
Marie: Oh, I know what it is. It's your father, isn't it? Now, listen to me. If you were to... God forbid, and I get the children, I'm willing to leave him.

Robert: [enters] Oh, hello. I noticed you had company. Well what do you know? If it isn't Bernie and Linda Gruenfelder.
Debra: Robert, they're just over for dinner.
Robert: Oh, just dinner? I don't think so. Why is your shirt tucked in tonight, Raymond? This is no ordinary dinner. You're giving away the children, aren't you?
Ray: Robert, don't make a big deal out of this.
Robert: It is a big deal! How could you choose them over me? I'm family.
Debra: We love you, Robert, but there's a lot of factors, okay? We put a great deal of thought into this. Look, you're single and you have a dangerous job.
Ray: And if you were to drop one of them, it's very, very far.

Robert: A stuck Cocoa Puff. It's a quandary.
Linda: Does that really happen?
Robert: Oh yes, it happens. Doesn't it, Raymond?
Ray: It happened to me when I was eight.
Robert: And 10.
Marie: So what would you do, dear?
Linda: Tweezers?
Robert: Absolutely never.
Bernie: Emergency room?
Robert: Nope.
Ray: All right, stop. You crunch and blow.

Linda: Oh, and we love Ally, Michael and Geoffrey. We love all of you!
Debra: We love you too. That's why we thought of you.
Bernie: Boy! ... I don't think so.
Debra: What?
Bernie: I mean, we're so flattered, but...
Linda: Your family's nuts.
Bernie: Yeah, there's nothing in the books about that!
Ray: Maybe you want to think it over...
Bernie: No, I'm sorry. You know, if there's an accident that takes them out at the same time as you, maybe.

Debra: The Wallaces?
Ray: No. Their house smells like feet.
Debra: Well, that's it, 'cause we've gone through everybody.
Ray: How about the Zs?
Debra: "Bronx Zoo."
Ray: I saw that documentary, that kid that was raised by wolves. Right? He's a dentist now.
Debra: No, there's got to be someone, you know? Someone else. Oh please, someone!
Ray: We could always do cold calling.
Debra: Looks like the kids are stuck with your parents.
Ray: I will say this about your father: He is a happy drunk.

Ray: Yeah, but the ball doesn't just bounce in there, okay? You don't know what it's like when a foul ball comes at you.
Debra: Don't children catch them?
Ray: Yeah, they catch the ones that come, "Oh look, bally! Ooh!" But this one came in, "Ray Barone!"
Debra: And at the last minute, it said, "Chocolate cake!"
Ray: Yeah. Yeah. All right, make fun, okay? When the ball does take my head off, maybe you won't be so mockulatory.

Robert: And also, most importantly, you have no respect for me as a human being!
Debra: Oh, that is not true.
Robert: Look, you know what? It's none my business, okay? Ally, Michael and Geoffrey Gruenfelder. Rolls right off the tongue.
Ray: Whoa, whoa, whoa. Where are you going, man?
Robert: I thought I'd leave via the front door. Or is that just for fit guardians?

Ray: You know, I almost died today.
Debra: Really?
Ray: That's what you say when I tell you I almost died?
Debra: What am I supposed to say?
Ray: "Oh my God, Ray! Are you all right?!"
Debra: What happened?
Ray: I'm in the press box, I'm watching the game...
Debra: Yeah.
Ray: And I'm eating a soft pretzel. But these pretzels they have, they're not moist. They're bigger than the other ones, but they're very dry. Anyway, the salt doesn't stick to them, it falls everywhere.
Debra: Oh my God, are you okay?
Ray: You gonna mock? You just gonna mock?