May Sloane: It was a really tragic story, because my husband, Otto, was dyslexic, and the only thing he could spell correctly was his name.
Ray: Ever heard of the Polish carpool? Every day they meet at work.
Frenchy's Lawyer: You've lost it all, Frenchy. Or should I say, you've been swindled out of it all.
Frenchy: You mean I got...?
Frenchy's Lawyer: Nothing, Mrs. Winkler. You have nothing. No... no house, no bank account, just a couple of large, outstanding loans which we feel you can best deal with by filing for bankruptcy.
Frenchy: Bankruptcy? Bankruptcy? I'm not up to the B-words yet.
Ray: What is this?
Frenchy: It's a Damon Dexter. A discovery of David's.
Ray: Yeah? I say it's depressing.
Frenchy: Knock it off. You wouldn't know a masterpiece if it bit you in the ass.
Ray: I refuse to look at this, Frenchy.
Frenchy: And what's that supposed to mean?
Ray: It means as long as this is there on the wall, I don't look at that wall.
Ray: Your cousin May is dumb like a horse, or a dog or something.
