Woody: Pour you a beer, Mr. Peterson?
Norm: Alright, but stop me at one. Make that one-thirty.

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Rebecca: You know, I really think I can put together a great Thanksgiving dinner. This’ll be the second one that I’ve cooked, and believe me, the first one was not the disaster that my family said it was. Those kids had a pretty good time in that ambulance.

Cliff: Did I ever tell you kids about the first Thanksgiving? It took place between the ancient Egyptains and aliens from a distant galaxy.

Woody Boyd: Oh, oh, Miss Howe. Wait. I’m recycling glass bottles. I want this world to be clean for our children. I mean, my children… or your children… or our children. But seeing as how you got a date with someone else tonight, it seems like a long shot.
Rebecca Howe: Woody, you’re so good and I’m so bad. I feel guilty and ashamed. I feel like killing myself.
Woody Boyd: (hands her a business card) I also volunteer for a suicide hotline. We do good things.

Woody: Jack Frost nipping at your toes, Mr. Peterson?
Norm: Yeah, now let’s get Joe Beer nipping at my liver.

Sam: To me, our relationship makes perfect sense. You want me to propose to you, I propose to you. You say no, I say fine, I never wanna see you again. You drive me nuts telling me you want me to propose again, I do, you turn me down. Next thing I know I’m in a court of law where I’ve got to propose to you or go to jail. It’s the classic American love story.