Wilson: Tim, I'm talking about the Modoc Indian tribe. In their native tongue, they have no word for "yours" or "mine," only one word... for "ours." Each man's material possession belongs to the whole tribe.
Tim: Must be difficult when it comes to underwear.
Wilson: You see, Tim, in the 20th century, our culture tends to measure a man's worth by his possessions.
Tim: And I got some cool stuff, too.
Wilson: That gives you a feeling of power, doesn't it?
Tim: Oh, you bet...
Wilson: And control over your life.
Tim: Oh, control, ha-ha.
Wilson: And control over your mate.
Tim: Yeah... Oh, yeah. I... You're saying that I want to own everything so I can control Jill?
Wilson: Well, Tim, if you own everything, you have all the power.

Jill: How much do I get?
Tim: Listen to this. 580 million dollars and 60 cents. I rounded it off.
Jill: Hand it over.
Tim: I'm a little short. I was kinda hoping I could work some of it off.
Jill: How are you gonna do that?
Tim: By satisfying every one of your needs.
Jill: That'll use up about 20 bucks.

Tim: In relationships, you've gotta be equal. Share things equally, no matter who makes the money. 'Cause Al and I have a good relationship. We share. But I'm no more valuable than Al.
Al: I agree.
Tim: Even though I make a lot more money. And I get full medical coverage.
Al: You get full medical?
Tim: Sure. But Al and I have learned how to share. On the job site, there's no difference between Al's tools and my tools.
Al: Actually, Tim, there is. At the end of the job... [clicking] my tools still work.

Tim: Quit nagging me about my driving.
Jill: I do not nag. You drive like a maniac.
Tim: You do too nag. And it's not "maniac," it's pronounced "man-iac."
Jill: You were going 35 miles an hour.
Tim: Whoa. Since when is 35 going fast?
Jill: Over speed bumps.
Tim: Let me ask you a question. Did your head hit the roof?
Jill: No.
Tim: Then I could have gone faster.

Jill: You know, Tim, I have always thought of this house as our home.
Tim: It is our home.
Jill: No, it's not. It's Tim's house. This is Tim's table. This is Tim's couch.
Tim: No, it's not. Jill.
Jill: All that stuff over there is Tim's.
Tim: Jill. Jill!
Jill: Oh, look! Here's something of mine. These coasters are mine.
Tim: Well, actually, didn't Aunt Helen send them to both of us for our wedding?
Jill: Well, here's your half. [throws them at Tim]
Tim: Good thing she didn't send us bowling balls.

Jill: Well, that's the last time you drive. I swear, when we went over that bump, I heard something crack.
Tim: That was just the sound of the car enjoying itself.
Jill: No, that was the sound of you enjoying racing that guy to the parking-lot exit. You always turn driving into a competition.
Tim: I do not.
Jill: Yes, you do. Yes, you do. Remember the other day, that 17-year-old pulled up in that Camaro, and you got that stupid look on your face?
Tim: Which stupid look?
Jill: One of your stupider ones. You know, that one where you curl your lip up like this and you got, like, that cocky head-roll thing.
Tim: That's my Elvis. You can't beat the king, man. You can't beat the king.

Jill: Well, my little hound dog, you drive your car the way you want. Don't ruin my beautiful station wagon.
Tim: "My station wagon"?
Jill: Yes.
Tim: That's where we're different. I think of everything around this house as ours.
Jill: Well, what about the tools?
Tim: They're ours. I just don't want you touching them.

Mark: Dad, there's a big black puddle under Mom's car.
Jill: Oh, no.
Tim: That doesn't mean it's a bad thing. We could have struck oil. It's a gusher. We're rich! Let's take a look.

Jennifer: Hi, Bradley. This is Howard.
Brad: Hey, how's it going, Howard?
Jennifer: You have to feed him twice a day and keep him in a well-lit area.
Brad: No problem. That's how we take care of Mark.

Tim: You opened your own checking account?
Jill: Yes, I did. Do you have a problem with that?
Tim: No, I don't have a problem with that. My wife's sneaking behind my back, stockpiling money. Why did you open your own checking account?
Jill: Well, you know, I'm working now, and I have a little money, and I just thought this'd be, sort of, like, mine.
Tim: Great. I've been working for 15 years, so that means the money in our joint checking account can be, sort of, like, mine!
Jill: No, no, no. That will still be ours.
Tim: How silly of me! The money I make, we both spend, the money you make, you spend.
Jill: Now you got it.
Tim: [grunts] I don't like that one bit.