Marshall: So, how many times are you gonna say no to your dream job? I'm just trying to plan my day.
Lily: I'm a scaredy-cat, okay? I want to be the type of person that just charges fearlessly into the unknown, but I came back two weeks early from Paris because I was lonely. I went to San Francisco, and I was never more depressed in my life. I'm small town, Marshall. I'm a hick from Brooklyn who's terrified of living more than ten subway stops from where I was born.
Marshall: Okay, Lily, if I can move from St. Cloud, Minnesota, to New York City, then you can move to Rome.
Lily: We know nothing about Italy. We have no friends there. We don't speak the language.
Marshall: [in Italian] "Come on, bro. Don't Bogart all the Funyuns."
Lily: Okay, so you know that one sentence. Can you say anything else?
Marshall: [haltingly, in Italian] "Come on. "Bro." "Don't Bogart all the Funyuns."
Lily: That-that was the same sentence. You just changed the inflection.
Marshall: [repeating the same Italian words] "Okay. I know. Maybe the only sentence I know is 'Come on, bro. Don't Bogart all the Funyuns.' But I know, in my heart, that you understand me anyway. Because no one has ever understood anyone better than you and I understand each other. Is the trip going to be scary? Yes. Do I like the idea of not knowing the language? Of course not. But I believe we can do this. I love you, Lily. I love you.
Lily: I love you, too. All right.