— There's this huge space between us... and it just keeps filling up with everything that we don't say to each other. What is that called?
— Marriage.

— What's your proof?
— He's wearing a wedding band.
— And it never occurred to you that maybe she's his wife?
— No married man kisses his wife like that.
— Okay. Well, it's a good thing you were never the deciding member on a jury is all I'm saying. "No married man kisses his wife like that"? Are you stoned?

I'm not living with you. We occupy the same cage, that's all!

I think you have to enjoy living with yourself before you have nerve to ask anyone else to.

Mr. Frisbee, until my husband is released from Happy Acres, I am in charge here.

Sometimes I wish it was as simple as this postcard somebody sent me once.