Tim: I was talking to Wilson, and I think I know what the trouble is. We got into an argument because we tried to define our relationship by our possessions.
Jill: I agree.
Tim: I think we could learn a lot from this tribe called the Mopeds.
Jill: The Mopeds?
Tim: Yeah. It's a tribe that share everything. Even their underwear.

Jill: Tim, what are you talking about?
Tim: Truth is, I... I do judge myself on my possessions and what I bring into this house. But you do so much, how do I put a price tag on that?
Jill: Try.
Tim: Aha. I knew you were gonna say that. So I figured this out at work today and wrote down what you should've earned, could I have afforded to pay you, for all the 12 and a half years of work you've done around the house. And, even though I wasn't legally bound to do this, I threw in a bonus for the pain of childbirth.
Jill: That'd better be a big bonus.
Tim: Honey, I was there. I know what you went through.
Jill: Oh, you do, do you?
Tim: Yes. It was painful for me too. All that screaming hurt my ears.

Jennifer: This is my goldfish, Howard.
Jill: Oh, so this is the Howard Brad is gonna baby-sit. Hi, Howard. Did you bring a leash? [Jennifer laughs]

Jennifer: I'll only be gone for three days, but I'll really miss you.
Brad: [sees Randy watching them] Uh-huh.
Jennifer: Aren't you gonna miss me?
Brad: Uh-huh.
Jennifer: Well, don't you want to say it?
Brad: Nuh-uh. [Randy laughs]

Jill: Hey, what is all this stuff? I thought that you were just gonna go buy me an oil pan thing.
Tim: Why stop there? Mark, show your mother what we got.
Mark: New shock absorbers.
Tim: Not ordinary shock absorbers. Binford's best, nitrogen-filled shock absorbers. They use these in all the off-the-road competitions.
Jill: Tim, I don't intend to drive my car off the road.
Tim: Well, you can now.

Jill: Do you have any love letters there for me?
Tim: Nope. I got one for me. From Damon's Hardware. "Dear valued customer." That's me. Valued, beloved, loyal. Catalog, coupon... Smells like a pork sandwich. Must be from your mom. Catalog, bank...
Jill: Thank you.
Tim: Bank... Bank? If that's from the bank, why is my name not on there?
Jill: It's not for you.
Tim: Whoa, whoa, whoa.
Jill: Hey! Hey! It is a federal offense to open somebody else's mail.
Tim: I wasn't gonna open it. [holds it to the light] "Jill Taylor, this is your new checking-account sta-state..."
Jill: -ment.

Jill: But I can spend it on you. [Tim grunts] Yeah. See? See, back in the old days, when I wanted to buy you a birthday present and I had to write a check for it, I always felt that I was spending your money.
Tim: Yeah.
Jill: But now, I'm spending my own money.
Tim: So this isn't really like just a checking account per se, it's more like a Tim Taylor birthday account.
Jill: Well, that's a good way for you to look at it.

Tim: Did you put oil on the gasket there?
Mark: Yeah.
Tim: All right. My son's going to be a mechanic.
Mark: No, I'm gonna be a racecar driver.
Tim: [grunts] My chest is swelling.

Tim: Honey, I think you misheard that.
Jill: Maybe I did. I thought that I just heard my husband say that this is his car because he paid for it.
Tim: Well, I know him. I don't think he would've said that.
Jill: I know him better than you do, and I think he did.
Tim: Look... I think of it as mine not because I paid for it, but because I maintain it.
Jill: Well, I maintain the house, so I guess that would make it mine.
Tim: Well, it can't be yours. You didn't pay for it. Uh...
Jill: So, technically, the house is yours because you paid for it?
Tim: Technically. But I don't charge you any rent. [Jill throws laundry at Tim] I'm kidding!
Jill: So you've just been lying all these years when you said that everything was ours. What you really meant was everything was yours, yours, yours. Jill has nothing.
Tim: You have my heart, honey. In your very angry hand.

Jill: You are such a hypocrite.
Tim: Me? I'm not the one sneaking around, opening my own checking account.
Jill: Since when is it sneaking around for me to go out in broad daylight and open an account with my money?
Tim: "My money. My money. My..."
Jill: Yes. And I need it, because without it all I've got are three kids and a couple of coasters.
Tim: You act like it's my fault I make all the money and pay for everything around here.
Jill: Well, why don't you just take everything around here? Why don't you take my checking account too?
Tim: Why do I want that? There's no money in it.