Johnny: You didn't hear us last night?
Roland: Nope.
Johnny: Banging away?
Roland: Now, whatever you and the missus do after hours, that's your business, not mine.
Johnny: On the walls, Roland, with our fists!
Roland: And if you're into that kind of stuff, that doesn't bother me at all.

Moira: Oh, there's a woman in here who couldn't afford a Persian rug, so she painted one on her tiled floor. The magazine is celebrating her ingenuity!
Johnny: Well, it sounds like a creative solution.
Moira: A creative solution would be a lobotomy to make one forget they like nice things. It's all so bleak.

Ray: Oh, okay, okay. I think I know what all the hesitation is about. Yes, someone did take their own life in this space, but the good news is, we've replaced the ceiling fan, it's now a break-away model. And to answer your question, yes, there is parking. Uh, oh, and they also allow cats.

David: There's a collection of undershirts hang drying outside of my room. Um, is there any way they could be removed, or is there like, a Texas Chainsaw movie being filmed out there that I'm not aware of?

Ray: As you can see, it's light and breezy. And by breezy, I mean there's a slight but steady draft I'm told you only notice in the winter.

Moira: [talking over music] I thought you said Jocelyn came back to make up!
Johnny: She did! That happens to be their wedding song.

Moira: Oh? Oh? You wanna drop the gloves? Let's drop the gloves, Roland. You are an emotionally stunted, self absorbed man-child. You lord this counterfeit power of yours over others like a schoolyard bully.
Roland: Okay, well you're a phony baloney blowhard, who's desperately scared of being thought of as a regular person.
Moira: I used to be a regular person.
Roland: You're just a stuck up pencil skirt with clown makeup, and a janitor's mop on your head.
Moira: You are an inexplicably cocky imbecile. Your marriage is as blighted as this town, and you have no one to blame but yourself!
Roland: Whoa.
Moira: Oh.
Roland: Well, hold on.
Moira: I went too far.

[As Melissa Manchester's "Don't Cry Out Loud" plays, loudly:]
Johnny: David, could you turn that down, please?
David: [o.s.] As if you think that's what I listen to!

Alexis: [o.s.] Stop yelling!
Johnny: I'm trying to turn the music down!
David: [o.s.] Stop banging on the wall!
Moira: David, stop yelling at your father!
Johnny: Hello?!
Alexis: [o.s.] Why is everybody screaming?!
Moira: Alexis, enough!
Johnny: The music's too loud!
David: [o.s.] Then get them to turn it down!
Johnny: Well, that's what I'm trying to do!
Moira: [anguished scream]

Moira: John. John! John, do you have any idea what a terrible night's sleep does to one's face?
Johnny: What, you couldn't sleep?
Moira: How could I sleep with that noise?!
Johnny: What noise? They turned it off.
Moira: No, you- You just fell asleep, and stayed asleep with no regard for my well being. Now my eyes are puffy.
Are they puffy?
Johnny: No, they look like they usually look, Moira.
Moira: So now my eyes are usually puffy!
Johnny: Oh, Moira, they're fine!
Moira: These bags are like gypsy caravans, packed to the brim!