Kitty: I heard it was really hard getting me down here.
Robert: Is that all you heard?
Kitty: Well, that and the fact that my husband has the chief of police on speed dial.
Robert: Well, but isn't that why you married me? Because I'm... connected.
Kitty: No, I married you for your looks and for your cute ass.
Robert: Well, that's funny, 'cause it's just why I married you.
Kitty: Well, you must be having a lot of regrets now.
Robert: No. No regrets.
Nora: Are you spying on him again?
Sarah: Well, googling is not spying. It's social networking
Robert: Didn't you almost divorce me for running for governor without talking to you?
Kitty: Yes, because you were lying in a hospital bed recovering from open-heart surgery. Remember?
Robert: And what are you recovering from, the common cold?
Robert: Why are you talking about this pissy little congressional seat? If you really want to run for office, I'll tell you whose seat you should run for.
Kitty: Whose?
Robert: Mine. I'd be right there with you and we would kick ass.
Nora: [to Justin] Sometimes the things you are most afraid of are the things that make you the happiest.
Justin: [to Rebecca] The only person I can't take care of is myself. I can't promise I'll never have doubts about myself, but I promise I'll never doubt us. Please, just give me a second chance. And marry me tomorrow.
Robert: See, it's this. It's just sitting here together, in a waiting room. Both of us trying to pretend we're not scared, that's love. Not being able to concentrate on writing a speech about the beauty of love because you're scared you might lose it and nothing will ever be the same. And realizing that the one place, the ONE place, that you feel most "you" is when you are lying next to her, just breathing.
Sarah: [to Kevin] Oh, by the way, I'm glad Scotty's sperm's better than yours — us Walkers need to stop reproducing.
Robert: Did your mother pass away last night?
Kitty: Au contraire. I just walked in on her and Simon. In the shower. Together. Naked.
Robert: Good for her! It's a new day in Pasadena.
Nora: This is the step where my son Justin split his head open when he was wasted out of his mind. Out there is the swimming pool where my husband drowned on my daughter's birthday. Up there in the very first bedroom is where I'm nursing Kitty through chemo. It's the very same bedroom that Sarah stayed in when she was going through her divorce. In there is the living room where my son Kevin married his partner Scotty. So this is the box I live in. It's not med school but it's not playing it safe either.
Scotty: Wait, is this a joke? Or does your OCD actually run on some sort of fuel that you're out of?
Robert: [to Kitty]: I love you... for reasons that have nothing to do with your hair.
Nora: The fear of losing control is dangerous as the disease itself. Fear keeps us doubting instead of hoping. Looking down instead of up
Kitty: At least before, when I felt sick, nobody knew I had a cancer, but now, everybody's gonna know.
Nora: Kitty, everyone who loves you - when they look at you, all they see is you
Sarah: Come on! Listen! Picking out feelings in yourself that match some cancer profile -- it's like looking at the horoscope in the comics page. You know, it fits anybody.
Justin: Do you want to know what Doctor Walker thinks?
Rebecca: No.
Justin: Come on, I'm taking clinical diagnosis. Let me try. Let me try! Alright. (touches her forehead) Uhmm, no fever. Could it be Ojai food poisoning? (Rebecca sniggers) or idiopathic wedding planitis.
"If a woman does not keep pace with her companions, perhaps it is because she hears a different drummer. Let her step to the music which she hears, however measured or far away"
"If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away"
Rebecca: Paige, Cooper, you wanna go in the living room maybe?
Cooper: But I don't want to miss the fight.
Kevin: Remember that summer I spent in Wahaca? I came back looking like I'd eaten an entire Backstreet Boy.
Scotty: I hope it wasn't Nick Carter. He's my favorite.
