— They're... They're not mine.
— I was sure you'd remember them!
— Well, I think I'd remember if I had three...
— Four, honey! Don't forget little Joe.
These gnats keep landing on my wet nail polish. I guess I'm supposed to walk around with their corpses stuck to my fingers.
— «Andrew! I seem to have lost my ruby earrings somewhere between... 64th... and 68th Streets. Find them!»
— I've behaved so badly. I don't know how you put up with me for so long. You've done so many wonderful things for me and I've never even once said thank you. I'm sorry.
— Apology accepted, ma'am.
— Forks were invented so man could at least make a pretense — of separating himself from the apes.
— So were thumbs.
— Did you tell 'em?
— Yeah. They're making out their Christmas lists.