Lloyd Chasseur: Telling people that she dreams about me being castrated florentine is healthy?
Lloyd: Caroline? Why don’t you eat something?
Caroline: Lloyd? Why don’t you eat me?
Lloyd Chasseur: You know what mom? You know what I’m gonna get you next Christmas? A big wooden cross, so every time you feel unappreciated for all your sacrifices, you can climb up and nail yourself to it.
[Lt. Huff smells a mask]
Lt. Huff: It’s urine.
Lt. Steve Milford: Oh thank God. Phil thought it might be semen.
Lt. Huff: Phil needs to talk to a therapist.
Gus: Let me say it one more time: I have a gun, it’s loaded, shut up, okay?
Lloyd: Coffee, mom?
Rose: Is it real coffee, or some Scandinavian Christmas potion?
Lloyd Chasseur: It wasn’t one bad review in one lousy magazine. It was the Restaurant Guide Book of New York. And, when the Restaurant Guide Book recommends you to Hindus looking for a fun night out of fasting, what did you expect me to do, change the menus?
Gus: Great, I just beat up Santa Claus.
Gus: You know what this family needs? A mute.
Gus: I’m in hell. Connecticut is the fifth ring of hell.
Connie: We can’t open presents until midnight.
Gus: Why not?
Connie: Because it’s not Christmas until midnight.
Gus: Well, guess what? We’re changing the rules a little bit, okay? We’re going to open the presents now, not later, now. Why? Because we’re adults and we can open the presents whenever we want!
Connie: I have never heard of such a Christmas: sex, and drugs, and, and, and, and women being set on fire.
Caroline: How can we both be in the marriage and I’m miserable and you’re content?
John Chasseur: Mom, the TV’s broken. What are we gonna do all night?
Connie Chasseur: Celebrate the birth of Christ!
Lloyd: Caroline, the day you see anything through to the end, I’ll stick my own dick in my ear.
Rose: You’re a Wong?
Gus: Well, my mother was Irish.
Rose: And, your father?
Lloyd: I suppose you’ll use this drama as a reason to have another affair. I feel sorry for the next delivery man that comes to this house!
Gus: I thought moms were supposed to be nice, and sweet, and patient. I know loan-sharks that are more forgiving than you.
Lloyd: Excuse me! Excuse me! EXCUSE ME! EXCUSE ME! If you don’t mind, the “corpse” STILL has the floor!
Gus: Your husband ain’t dead, lady, he’s hiding.
Rose: Sounds too sweet!
Caroline: Then don’t eat it!
George: What, you’re pulling a gun on me? I’m not afraid of you.
Gus: Just calm down, alright?
George: You think you can take me? I’m Santa Claus!
Caroline: You’re the one who suffocated him with limitations. Our son’s a very sensative, creative…
Lloyd: Juvenile delinquent.
Caroline: …boy. He has the kind of imagination…
Lloyd: That the mafia gives scholarships for.