Julian Mercer: Me too.
Erica Barry: If I were writing this, this is where I would write "an awkward moment."
Harry Sanborn: Honey, if you were writing this, I'd be dead!

Erica Barry: You know what, Harry. If it's all right with you, I'd like to be friends.
Harry Sanborn: Friends? I'm not ready to be your friend!
Erica Barry: Fine, I understand.
Harry Sanborn: And anyway, do you really buy that horse shit that a man and a woman can be friends after they've had sex?
Erica Barry: I'm friends with my ex-husband but then again, we didn't just have sex.
Harry Sanborn: We didn't just have sex either.
Erica Barry: Then what was it? I'd love to know.
Harry Sanborn: Can I e-mail it to you when I figure it out?

Erica Barry: I do like sex!
Harry Sanborn: You certainly do.

Harry Sanborn: I think I'm entering into another phase with this thing. I'm mad at you.
Erica Barry: I think I'm mad at you too.
Harry Sanborn: Good, because I don't LIKE thinking about you all the time and worrying about how you are...
Erica Barry: You... worry about ME?
Harry Sanborn: Yes, honey. The schmuck, who deserves to die, worries about you. Sometimes worrying about you feels like a full-time job.
Erica Barry: Well I'm doing just fine, so you don't have to work that shift anymore!

Julian Mercer: Look who's answering the door!
Harry Sanborn: Look who's at the door!

Erica Barry: Wait. You're leaving, Zoe's leaving, the entourage is leaving. You mean I'm going to be alone in this house... with HIM?
Marin: Well, the hospital's sending over a nurse first thing in the morning.
Erica Barry: In the morning? That's like 19 hours from now!

[after kissing Julian] Good. That's very good.

Erica Barry

I got you something GREAT at the farmstand.

Zoe

I'm like the dumb girl that doesn't get it. I've never been the dumb girl before. It ain't so great.

Erica Barry

Marin: We know this about me. I'm just not cut out for this kind of drama.
Erica Barry: I think it's the drama in life that makes you strong.
Marin: You always say things like that!

Harry Sanborn: I can't get past your damn turtleneck.
Erica Barry: Cut it off!

Harry Sanborn: Some people consider rap poetry.
Erica Barry: C'mon, how many words can you rhyme with bitch?

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