Beverly: Sweetie, you have to eat.
Erica: Food reminds me of Drew. He used to eat food.
Beverly: Baby, if you don't eat, then I have failed as a mother.

Barry: Mom? Are you kidding me right now? Move.
Beverly: I will not move. I will never move. You're my special boy. If you end up being just a head, then I have failed as a mother.

Beverly: Murray, no. Our babies can't live in a van. They could get snatched by a kidnapper, who wouldn't need a creepy van because he's being conveniently provided with one.

Erica: I only have sixty bucks. How much you got?
Barry: I'd have to move some stuff around, but roughly twelve hundred.
Erica: Dollars? How?
Barry: Basically, you've inherited dad's stubbornness, and I inherited his cheapness. You see, every day for lunch mom gives me two dollars. I spend twenty-five cents on chocolate milk, and eat food scraps off friends' plates and random tables.

Erica: You use comedy as a defense mechanism, but that doesn't make you a funny person that people laugh with. It makes you a lame-o who people laugh at.