Sylvia: Well, it seems like everytime we're at a restaurant and you see a critic you want to throw your butter knife at him.
Peter: I would've got the last guy if he hadn't moved.

Mary: What a crock.
Sylvia: Hey, where'd you hear that expression?
Peter: What a crock!

Student: Because you can't have more than one father at a time living with you. That's the law.

Mary: Do you have a penis?

Peter: She's not a baby anymore. Don't you see that one word was like a... a trumpet announcing her adulthood in defening volume. First comes penis...
Michael: Pete!
Peter: Then comes...
Michael: Pete, can you say it louder. I don't think the chef heard you.

Jack: What, no furnisher? *Mrs. Bennington comes to town with a whole lot of suitcases*

Mrs. Bennington: I need a drink. *after seeing the rap song*

Jack: Do you wanna marry me?
Sylvia: No.
Jack: No?
Sylvia: But thank you for asking.

Jack: London, England?
Michael: No, London, New Jersey.

Jack: Edward! I made it. I'm here!
Edward: Helaluah.

Jack: You love her don't you?
Peter: Why do you say that?
Jack: Don't you? Oh come on Pete. Just say how you feel.
Peter: Ok. I love her.
Jack: Damn it. I knew it. I wish they had a catergory like this on jeopardy. I'd clean up.

Peter: I think to much.
Jack: He does. He's right.

Ms. Lomax: Mr. Mitchell what are you doing in my closet?
Peter: Sometimes a man has to be alone.

Usher: Bride or groom, sir?
Butler: Just a guest.

Butler: *starts standing up over and over* I'm starting a wave.

Mary: I understand now.
Sylvia: Do you?
Mary: Peter loves you.

Peter: Marry me.
Sylvia: Marry you? Why, Peter, for Mary's sake? Is that why you want me to marry you? You don't have to do that now. I'm going back to New York and living there and you can see as much of Mary you like.
Peter: It's not for Mary I'm doing this. I'm doing it for me. I love you.
Sylvia: No you don't.
Peter: Yes I do. I love you. I love the way you walk, I love the way you laugh, I love the way when you get nervous you bite your bottom lip just like you're doing now, I love the way you love Mary. I even love her liver mousse! I love you and if there were no Mary, if there was nothing else I'd still love you. And I want to make Mary all over again with you. Am I not making enough of a fool of myself?
Sylvia: Yes. I love you, too.