Rosie: Okay, don’t tell mom. This is a serious theory, okay?
Rosie: So, I was watching OWN and there was this lady on, she was talking about how to meet your mate, key word being “meet,” as in half way. Put yourself in the right places to meet who you want.
Rosie: So, if you want a man that is going to mow the lawn, you don’t go to the bar. You go to Home Depot.
Rosie: And if you want a man that’s going to take your boy to see fireworks at the beach, go see fireworks at the beach, bitch.
Ruby: Is that why we’re here?
Rosie: That’s why I’m here.
John Buchan: In every relationship, I think, one person loves the other person more. But hopefully it’s close and hopefully it goes up and down a little bit, you know? But it seems to me you never can both equally love each other the same amount. It’s unfortunate, but it’s just sort of a fact of life.
Justin: Okay, so how do you know it’s bin Laden? ‘Cause the truth is, we’ve been on this op before. It was ’07, and it wasn’t bin Laden, and we lost a couple of guys.
Maya: Totally understand. Bin Laden uses a courier, to interact with the outside world. By locating the courier, we’ve located bin Laden.
Patrick: That’s really the intel. That’s it?
Maya: Quite frankly, I didn’t even want to use you guys, with your dip and velcro and all your gear bullshit. I wanted to drop a bomb. But people didn’t believe in this lead enough to drop a bomb. So they’re using you guys as canaries. And, in theory, if bin Laden isn’t there, you can sneak away and no one will be the wiser. But bin Laden is there. And you’re going to kill him for me.
Dee Dee: I loved that asshole so much, I loved him! We used to spend hours just kissing each other, just kissing. Sometimes we’d lock our lips together at night and just fall asleep like that. I loved that! I loved kissing him. I loved touching his face, smelling his breath, falling asleep next to him when he was watching TV. I. . .I used to get wet when he looked into my eyes. One night I didn’t feel it anymore. I looked in his eyes and I was numb. I hated him for that. I just. . .I wanted to feel something again. I wanted him to yell at me, to fight for me. I wanted him to say, “How dare you? Don’t you know how much I love you? Don’t you know how much I’ll always love you? You’re a pain in the ass, but you’re the most important thing in my life and I’m never letting you go. You’re my treasure.” But that never happened. He never said a word. Nobody does that kind of shit in real life.
Charlotte Dalrymple: Dr. Granville, I can assure you that women enjoy physical pleasure just as much as men, even if it can be hard to come by.
Dr. Mortimer Granville: Physical pleasure has nothing to do with it. It is strictly a medical treatment that stimulates the nervous system.
Charlotte Dalrymple: Indeed it does, doesn’t it. Bargain it to guinea. But my point is, according to your diagnosis, hysteria seems to cover everything, from insomnia to toothache.
Dr. Mortimer Granville: It’s not my…
Charlotte Dalrymple: It’s nothing more than a catch-all for dissatisfied women. Women, forced to spend their lives on domestic chores and their prudish and selfish husbands who are unwilling or unable to make love to them properly, or often enough.
Dr. Mortimer Granville: You seem to have strong opinions on husbands for a woman who doesn’t have one.
Charlotte Dalrymple: Look, if you don’t believe me, ask your patients.
Dr. Mortimer Granville: Faintly ironic, don’t you think. Use my engagement party as an opportunity to deliver your opinion these matters?
Charlotte Dalrymple: Yes, yes. And I apologize for that, but you must admit, you men really did get the best side of the bargain.
Dr. Mortimer Granville: Bargain?
Charlotte Dalrymple: For us, it’s mindless housework and doting on some mindless halfwit–
Dr. Mortimer Granville: You can make some mindless halfwit very happy.
Charlotte Dalrymple: It is simply not enough for me, or for most women. Would it be enough for you?
Dr. Mortimer Granville: Oh, I’m not most women. Wouldn’t you be lonely?
Charlotte Dalrymple: I will take a partner. An equal. But, not for me, a life of darning socks, doing chores until my mental faculties become Sunday pudding.