Norman: You like that word, don't you? Bullshit.
Billy Ray: Yeah.
Norman: It's a good word.
Bill Ray: Well, how does it feel to turn eighty?
Norman: Twice as bad as it did turning forty.
Ethel: That son of a bitch happens to be my husband.
Norman: "Ethel Thayer." It sounds like I'm lisping, doesn't it?
Ethel: Come here, Norman. Hurry up. The loons! The loons! They're welcoming us back.
Ethel: You know, Norman, you really are the sweetest man in the world, but I'm the only one who knows it.
Norman: There's someone at the door.
Ethel: It's me, you old poop.
