Mike: Murray, I would very much like to buy your furniture store.
Murray: You serious?
Mike: As serious as my heart issues. Sometimes it beats fast, sometimes slow, sometimes not at all.
Beverly: I can't believe we're gonna have a shore house! And there's gonna be decorative starfish and, for some reason... an oar above the door.
Murray: Yeah. Take it easy, Blackbeard. We don't even know what the man's offering.
Mike: Now... you do.
Murray: Is that a period or a comma?
Mike: Comma, baby. The punctuation of the wealthy.
Beverly: Holy [bleep] starfish money! We're rich! We're gonna have everything monogrammed.
Murray: I don't like people knowing my initials. I'm gonna have to mull it over.

Murray: I'm home! I don't want to hear it! Vic? W-What are you doing here?
Vic: Beverly pulled me into your ugly domestic squabble.
Beverly: Murray, you really need to consider Formica Mike's offer.
Murray: Al, you wanna weigh in? It was your shop first. You want your legacy stripped for parts?
Pops: For that kind of dough, strip away! It's just furniture. Who cares?
Vic: Agreed! It's mostly wood. It's not that special. Look out the window. It's everywhere... tree, tree, little bush.

Beverly: We could have all our friends to our shore house on July Fourth, and they would quietly speculate about how much the house cost. Oh! The envy would eat 'em alive.
Vic: I'd certainly be curious and resentful.
Murray: So, that's what this is about, you making your friends jealous?
Beverly: And you can finally stop complaining about work.
Murray: I don't complain about work.
Pops: It's all you do! It's your defining characteristic as a person!
Vic: Your negativity has pulled me down, too. I've spoken to my pastor about it. He'd like you to join us at our men's picnic.

Pops: Mur, come on. Take the deal.
Murray: I'm not taking it until he apologizes.
Beverly: Apologizes to you? For what?
Murray: For big-timing me.
Pops: With his handsome and excessive offer? Let him big-time you, Mur. Who cares?
Murray: I care! No deal. [exits]
Beverly: Well, if all it takes is an apology to get me a family beach house that gives me generational control of my children, then so be it.
Pops: That seems misguided and selfish, but you do you.
Vic: How are you gonna get the Formica King to apologize for trying to give Murray a ton of money?
Beverly: Easy. I'm not going to him.

Fran: Beverly, I'm so glad you called.
Beverly: Who was that woman who answered your phone?
Fran: My secretary.
Beverly: You have a secretary? For what?
Fran: To do all the things I don't want to, which is everything besides shopping and drinking wine.
Beverly: My God, I want your life.
Fran: It's yours. Just get your Murray to accept my Mikey's offer.
Beverly: Well, this might sound crazy, but could you get Mike to give Murray just a teensy, itsy-bitsy apology?
Fran: Done.
Beverly: I thought that would be harder.
Fran: Please. Apologies are just words. Words mean nothing.
Beverly: Ah, that's how I feel!

Geoff: Adam! Please come in. Welcome to our home. Mwah! Mwah!
Adam: Oh, boy, coming in hot.
Geoff: And help yourself to some gourmet snacks or a variety of freshly squeezed juices.
Erica: Those are my juices!

Adam: It's a real departure from the original... and also reality.
Erica: Enough! You clearly ruined it!
Adam: But I thought you didn't care about "The Play Ground" anymore.
Erica: Not until you completely ripped out its emotional appeal. It's about the chutes and ladders of childhood, not shark robots.
Barry: Robotic sharks. It's a small but important distinction.
Adam: I guess there's a solution... you come back to finish what we started.
Erica: Damn it, fine!
Adam: Sweet! Barry, you're fired.
Barry: You'll regret this. I don't know how, and you're my ride, but this isn't over. I'll be waiting downstairs.
Adam: See ya at the piano tomorrow. Ta!

Murray: I can't believe you dragged me to this dumb country club.
Beverly: Dumb? It's Ashborn.
Murray: I don't care where we are. I don't want to be here.
Beverly: When have you ever said no to a free buffet? Plus, Formica Mike is gonna apologize for whatever minor indignity you suffered.
Murray: I'll believe that when I see it. Is that a carving station?
Mike: You bet your tuchus. Help yourself to some meaty delights.
Murray: How many slices can I get?
Mike: Take the whole damn tenderloin. Jimbo, put the sweet beast onto his plate.
Fran: I told you this would work.
Beverly: Pretty soon I'll be on the shore, under an umbrella, yelling at my grandkids not to play Frisbee with strangers.
Fran: That's the dream.
Mike: And when you're finished with that, head over to the dessert table, grab yourself a big chunk of Black Forest cake. It's gonna ruin you for two days, but it's worth it.

Murray: Bevy, get the car. We're going.
Beverly: Where's your pants?!
Murray: Stuck in a locker. I don't know the combination.
Beverly: You didn't take the deal? It's what you wanted!
Murray: No. It's what you wanted. I want to go to work every day.
Beverly: What? You hate going to work!
Murray: I know it seems like that, but I love my job.
Beverly: But you're never not complaining about it.
Murray: Because I love complaining. And I love filling up the cash register. And I love the dumb customers. And I love having lunch with Vic. I love it.
Beverly: I didn't know that.
Murray: Well, now you do.

Adam: There's my girl. I got everything we need... a piano, a kazoo, and the finest instrument there is, these sweet pipes.
Erica: Save it, Streisand.