Cliff: What a pathetic display. I’m ashamed God made me a man.
Carla: I don’t think God’s doing a lot of bragging either.

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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.

Sam: What’ll you have Normie?
Norm: Well, I’m in a gambling mood Sammy. I’ll take a glass of whatever comes out of that tap.
Sam: Looks like beer, Norm.
Norm: Call me Mister Lucky.

Woody: Hey Mr. Peterson, there’s a cold one waiting for you.
Norm: I know. If she calls, I’m not here.

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

Woody: Would you like a beer, Mr. Peterson?
Norm: No, I’d like a dead cat in a glass.