Jill: Robbie, can I give you just a little piece of advice?
Robin: No.
Jill: Well, you're gonna hear it anyway. Marriage is about one thing - compromise. And guess who gets to do most of that?
Both: We do.
Jill: It's 70-30. Unless you count childbirth, and then it's 97-3.

Jill: Now, listen, you need to learn to let some things go, because you know you make everything such a big deal. Just eliminate the things that drive you the craziest.
Robin: Well, that would be Charlie. He is such a slob, Jill. He leaves his clothes on the floor, his wet towels on the bed. I wish he was more like Tim.
Jill: Hah!
Robin: At least Tim helps you out around the house.
Jill: Well, of course he does. I trained him. Without me he'd still be in the backyard eating out of a trough.
Robin: How did you train him?
Jill: Well, first I got rid of the trough.

Tim: How do women and men even stay together?
Wilson: It has to do with barbed wire, Tim.
Tim: [inquisitive grunt]
Wilson: As a boy I used to spend summers at my Uncle Leonard's farm, and at the edge of his property he had a huge oak tree. Running through the middle of that tree was an old barbed-wire fence.
Tim: It went right through the tree?
Wilson: Right through the middle of the tree. When a tree is planted close to a fence, it has nowhere to grow. As it expands and grows bigger, it extends over the fence and slowly envelops the wire. The two separate entities gradually become one.
Tim: Am I the tree or the barbed wire?
Wilson: Well, I don't think you're the tree, Tim. [Tim laughs] Ah, the point is, the two were joined without destroying the tree or losing the integrity of the fence. It's almost as if they belong together.
Tim: Like Jill and me.

Al: OK, well, what should I wear?
Tim: Well, Al, I can't speak for Fred or Charlie, but I'd like to see you in something simple yet revealing.
Al: What you're saying is it doesn't matter.
Tim: That's what I'm saying, Al. Unless you get an evening dress...
Al: I'll see you at 7:30.

Tim: I got everything I need. Chips, soda, all ready for that poker game. Whoa! Looks like your mom made some dip.
Jill: [o.s.] Don't eat that!
Tim: I know. It's for the company. [licks dip off finger] Is that your mother's recipe?
Jill: No. It's not a dip. It's an organic face mask. [Tim retches]

Jill: Well, Tim, if the boys don't want to go, maybe we should just all stay home.
Tim: No! When your sister gets here, she goes, Charlie stays. It's a man's night tonight.
Jill: "Man's night."
Tim: Yeah. Man's night. Cigars, smoke, scratching parts of you, burping, body noises without any kind of apology. "Oh, excuse me. I'm sorry. I fluffed."
Jill: How is that different from any other night?
Tim: Well, there'll be other men doing it with me.

Charlie: Well, I've only been married 23 days, and every day it's been the same thing. Nag, nag, nag. "Pick up your socks, pick up your underwear, pick up your dishes."
Tim: Charlie, pick up your keys. [chuckles] Let me tell you something about women. Women are a product of their mothers. And their mothers before that, and their mothers before that. This nagging is a genetic thing. It goes way back, you know? Maybe to caveman days. The Serengeti's quiet. You could hear a pin drop. But out of a cave hole: "Hey. Grog, get your hairy butt out of that bed. Did you drag this wildebeest across this floor? I've been down on my knuckles and knees all day. I washed your loincloth this morning. Use some leaves, will ya?" Why do you think man invented the wheel? So he could leave home now and then.

Tim: All right, my deal. Seven card stud. Everybody antes.
Al: Why do they call it "stud"?
Tim: Well, I think it's because you're here, Al.

Fred: Charlie, you should have seen this '40 Chevy project I was working on.
Tim: Oh, that pick-up down at your shop.
Fred: Beauty.
Tim: It's lime green. It's metal flake. About a mile deep paint job. This thing is just unbelievable. It's got a...
Both: ..454, big Chevy V-8, tunnel rams... dual quads, polished heads...
Fred: ..350 turbo trans. Ten-inch torque converter. I mean a sweet piece of metal.
Tim: Ooh! This is it, right here. Men talking. Cigar smoke. Cars. [grunts]

Tim: Let me jump in here, if I could. Charlie, Jill and I have been married 12 years. Good marriage for one reason. Every day I get up early morning. Look her right in the eyes and say. "Jill, I'm sorry."
Charlie: For what?
Tim: For everything. Just being a man, having an Adam's apple, just breathing. That's it.