Adam: Brea can't come to the wedding. She's going to her grandma's 70th in Hartford. Should I be worried?
Erica: Hot dog, yes! Very worried.
Adam: I thought you were gonna gently reassure me I was being crazy.
Erica: Do you know anything about senior birthdays in Connecticut? Super sexy. That's why it's called the Romance State.
Adam: I think it's the Nutmeg State.
Erica: You're thinking, but I'm knowing. Once you cross state lines, anything goes.
Adam: But they're just going to the Holiday Inn.
Erica: Ouch.
Barry: They have pools.
Erica: Pools have boys.
Barry: Boys meet Brea.
Erica: Brea go bye-bye.
Barry: Bye-bye.
Adam: Oh, God! There is a pool! And a free New York Times every morning!
Erica: That's what I'm saying. They really know how to set a table for love.

Geoff: Next question. I'm sure that you've taken a penny, but have you ever left a penny?
Erica: Not even once.
Barry: I've taken the little tray that holds the pennies.
Geoff: Next question... Would you ever exceed the speed limit to get to a dentist's appointment on time?
Erica: Did it. Got there. Realized it was the wrong day. Mom called and made the dentist come in anyway.
Barry: Speed limit?

Adult Adam: [v.o.] It was Hanukkah, 1980-something, and Erica was spending her first holiday with the Schwartzes.
Geoff: I really appreciate you still coming to my folks' house. I know it's a big sacrifice to give up the family cruise.
Erica: Geoff, I'm thrilled to be here.
Geoff: Aww.
Erica: Because I would rather eat my fingers and toes than be stuck on a boat with my family for a week.
Geoff: Gonna walk back that aww.
Erica: I'm just excited to have a normal holiday without family drama.
Geoff: Normal is one thing that the Schwartzes do well. That and Boggle.
Erica: I keep forgetting that normal and boring mean the same thing.

Adult Adam: [v.o.] It was January 13th, 1980-something, and Erica was about to get a major reality check.
Dean: Ms. Goldberg, any idea why I've called you into the dean's office?
Erica: You want to put me on your famous list? Is there, like, a cash prize, or is it just something worthless like honor?
Dean: Weirdly, the Dean's List is not generated by the dean but a provost...
Erica: Can we just get to it? I have a puppetry class in ten.
Dean: Well, that's why we're here. It seems you haven't declared a major yet.
Erica: But I'm only a sophomore. Can't I just keep sampling classes until something strikes my fancy?
Dean: That depends. Are you a member of the well-heeled patrician class where money is no object?
Erica: My dad's had the same three pairs of pants since I've known him, so not so much.

Erica: Hey, oceanography. Bing, bang, boom. My life path is settled!
Geoff: But you hate the ocean. You said it's God's toilet.
Erica: Fair. Computer science. Hello, future. It's me, Erica. Let's do this.
Geoff: You're really gonna program computers?
Erica: Is that what that means?

Erica: Surprise, I'm gonna be a doctor, too.
Barry: What? No, you're not. There's only one Dr. Goldberg in this class and on the planet.
Erica: Oh, you really don't have a grasp of who makes up the medical community. But you should be happy. We're going on this journey together!
Barry: You're not a doctor! At best, you're one of those pharmaceutical reps who pushes allergy meds in a pencil skirt!
Erica: Whatever. This isn't about you anyway. It's about me helping gross, sick people and having a dope-ass beeper.
Barry: But what kind of doctor would you even be?
Erica: Obviously not the kind that deals with your downstairs or backside business. And nothing with the mouth or ears. And, of course, the middle is off the table.
Barry: That's the entire body.
Erica: I didn't rule out shins. I'll be a "shin-ologist." Look at me go.

Professor Wilma Howell: Welcome to human anatomy. Look around. Half of you will fail, a quarter will go on to med school, and one will kill a man through gross malpractice.
Barry: She's talking about you.
Erica: Hey, malpractice makes "malperfect."

Adult Adam: [v.o.] In that moment, Erica realized what Pops had been trying to say all along. There was one way only she could help Barry.
Barry: Please. I need this class.
Professor Wilma Howell: Mr. Goldberg, I've made up my mind.
Erica: Reconsider.
Professor Wilma Howell: I'm sorry?
Erica: Exhibit A, Barry's last test... The highest grade in the entire class. Exhibit B, a letter from Dr.Milgrom certifying Barry's internship this summer. And Exhibit C, Barry's time card from Abbington Memorial, where he volunteers.
Professor Wilma Howell: What's your point?
Erica: My point is, Barry's always wanted to be a doctor, and he's gonna be a damn good one. Are you really gonna take his future from him because of my screw-up?
Professor Wilma Howell: Wow. You advocated for your brother better than he could for himself.
Barry: I wrote an apology rap.
Professor Wilma Howell: Yeah, which I don't want to hear again. You're back in. Now please leave.

Adult Adam: [v.o.] My mom was back in arbitration, but without Erica or any evidence, her case seemed to be open and shut.
Pamela: Mrs. Goldberg, do you have anything further to present?
Beverly: Only my word. I did not sign that addendum.
Pamela: I'm ready to make my ruling and be done with both of you forever.
Erica: [enters] Not so fast.
Adult Adam: [v.o.] And then, in a hero moment straight out of L.A. Law, a badass in shoulder pads showed up to save the day.
Beverly: Erica, what are you doing here?
Erica: Fighting for something I care about. I'd like to call Murray Goldberg to the stand.
Beverly: [gasps] A surprise, 11th-hour witness? Oh, you are in for it now.
Mr. Whitby: I-I object.
Erica: On what grounds?
Mr. Glascott: I'll allow it. Let's see where this goes.

Beverly: I knew it. Rock-solid evidence. [whispers] Of what, exactly?
Erica: That the addendum was forged by Mr. Whitby.
Mr. Whitby: Uh-oh.
Erica: Because, as you can clearly see in this photo, you signed in purple Sharpie, like a weirdo, while the contract right there is signed in blue.
Pamela: Mr. Whitby, do you have a response to this?
Mr. Whitby: Yes, I do. I lied. But this has been a hoot. Am I right?
Pamela: The judgment is for Mrs. Goldberg.
Beverly: Yes!
Pamela: Print her books.