Barry: We can live in some tiny, shark-tankless apartment, for all I care. As long as it's me, Lainey, and our four snuggly little kids.
Beverly: Okay, there is no way I'm gonna let- Oh, my God. Did you say kids?
Lainey: Can you imagine all those cute little Barrys running around? Aww.
Barry: Aww.
Beverly: Aww.
Lainey: Why is she aww-ing with us?
Barry: I don't know.
Beverly: Little Barrys. Oh, with the curly hair and the squishy, husky baby body and the not being able to ride the bus to camp 'cause you're so emotionally out of control. [gasps] Ah!

Beverly: You are not getting married to Lainey Lewis. You are a high-school senior and a tiny boy.
Murray: And you need a job! First, you drop out of college to be a rock star? Now you're back here driving up my electric bill!
Beverly: You will get married over my dead body. And shame on you for not even consulting your one true lady love of your life, which is me.
Murray: And look at you. Using my stove and my light bulbs like you're some sort of Norwegian royalty.
Beverly: You can't be a husband. You are still my baby Barry.
Murray: Those beautiful blond bastards! They did nothing to help us during the war.
Beverly: Murray, stop. You're on a bad tangent. Just focus on how she's breaking our hearts.

Murray: Hey, Billy boy. Here to yell at the kids?
Bill Lewis: Bingo! Hope it's okay, but I've written some really terrible things to say to Barry in order to scare him off.
Murray: You did some homework. Good on you.
Bill Lewis: Yeah. Full disclosure: I attack his physical appearance in a very un-Christian way. I mean, it's no way for an adult to speak to a child.
Murray: Hey, go big or go home, right?
Beverly: Wrong! All of our anger, guilt, and emotional terror only makes the kids dig in deeper. We have to rethink our tactics.
Bill Lewis: With your blessing, I am willing to fistfight your son.