I can't do this without you. I'm afraid he might pull the stiff one-eye on me.

I guess what I'm trying to say is... you make me want to be a better man.

I might be the only person on the face of the earth that knows you're the greatest woman alive. I might be the only one who appreciates how amazing you are in every single thing that you do, and how you are with Spencer. And in every single thought that you have, and how you say what you mean, and how you almost always mean something that's all about being straight and good. I think most people miss that about you, and I watch them, wondering how they can watch you bring their food and clear their tables, and never get that they just met the greatest woman alive. And the fact that I get it makes me feel good, about me.

I want your life for one minute where my biggest problem is someone offering me a free convertible so I can get outta this city.

I'm drowning here, and you're describing the water!

I'm in a freakball here!

I'm losing my apartment, Melvin. And Frank, he wants me to beg my parents, who haven't called me, for help. And I won't. And... I don't want to paint any more! So the life that I was trying for, is over. The life that I had is gone, and I'm feeling so damn sorry for myself that it's difficult to breathe.

If you ever mention my son again, you will never be able to eat here again. Do you understand? Give me some sign you understand, or leave now. Do you understand me, you crazy fuck!

If you stare at someone long enough, you discover their humanity.

Life is pain management

Lucky for you, you're here for rock-bottom. You absolute horror of a human being.

Never interrupt me, okay? Not if there's a fire, not even if you hear the sound of a thud from my home, and one week later there's a smell coming from there that can only be a decaying human body, and you have to hold a hanky to your face because the stench is so thick that you think you're gonna faint. Even then, don't come knocking. Or, if it's election night, and you're excited and you wanna celebrate because some fudge-packer that you date has been elected the first queer president of the United States and he's going to have you down to Camp David. And you want someone to share the moment with. Even then, don't knock, not on this door. Not for ANY reason. Do you get me, sweetheart?

People who talk in metaphors oughta shampoo my crotch.

Police! Donut-munching morons! Help me!

Quit worrying. You'll be back on your knees in no time.