Wilson: You know, closing up the old childhood home can be a traumatic thing. I know it was for me.
Tim: A lot of memories?
Wilson: Yeah, they're still vivid. Waking up to the sound of a hyena laughing. The sweet smell of hay as the zebra grazed. The sight of a mother rhinoceros feeding her calf.
Tim: Uh, you... you were raised in Africa?
Wilson: Chicago. In an apartment overlooking the zoo.

Jill: How are you, honey?
Tim: I'm good. I was just thinking how much I'm like this house.
Marty: You mean you both have old, leaky pipes?
Tim: I'm speaking metaphorically.
Jeff: Metaphorically? You actually know what that means?
Tim: I have a neighbor who explains stuff like this to me.

Tim: So, Wilson, what are you doing?
Wilson: Well, Tim, I'm carving a nativity scene out of giant radishes. What do you think of my Three Wise Men?
Tim: I think they should come bearing onion dip.
Wilson: [chuckles] See, this is part of the Mexican custom of Noche de Rabanos.
Tim: Um... Night of the Bathroom?
Wilson: No, no, no, no, no, Tim. Night of the Radishes. You see, every Christmas, farming families would head into town and display their tuberous creations.