Brian: [voiceover] My mother's a behavioral psychologist, and my father's a Freudian psychiatrist, which basically means they fundamentally disagree on, like, everything.

Brian: Angela, wait. Did you ever think that I could actually be doing something that does not involve you? I mean, that I may not just be sitting around in case you decide like that moment that you need my car?
Angela: So what were you doing?
Brian: Nothing! Do you want my sweater?
Angela: OK.
Brian: Just, try not to sweat into it.
Angela: Why do you have to say things like that?!

Brian: My parents have a vibrator. It sounds like a lawnmower.

Counselor: Rayanne, you've been sober for over a month! It's time you get a support system in place.
Rayanne: I already have a support system!
Counselor: Really? Who?
Rayanne: Well, Rickie. Angela.
Counselor: This, this Angela? Isn't she the one you said you feel distant from these past few weeks?
Rayanne: Well, she got herself a guy, but it's nothing to worry about.
[pulls out lollypop]
Rayanne: Lolly?

Danielle: [voiceover] My life is different people kicking me out of different rooms.

Danielle: Do we have to keep talking about religion? It's Christmas.

Danielle: It's not fair. Angela got a new bike when she was eleven.
Graham: What do you do? Keep like running tally of everything we bought for Angela?
Danielle: Well, yeah.

Jordan: [to Angela, about sex] It's accepted! It's what you're supposed to do! Unless you're like...abnormal?

Katimski: What kind of girl is Shakespeare describing here? Is she the most beautiful girl?
Brian: No.
Katimski: Is she a goddess? Physically perfect? The kind of girl who stops traffic when she walks down the street?
Brian: [laughs] No.
Katimski: So he's not in love with her?
Jordan: Yeah. He is.
Katimski: Why is that? Why is he in love with her? What is it? What is it about her?
Brian: She's not just a fantasy. She's got, like, flaws. She's real.

Mr. Racine: Write it down. Whatever you feel like saying write it down instead. What you never told anyone. What you never even told yourself. And don't fear exposure. No one is to put his or her name down. This will be completely anonymous.
Rayanne: [whispering to Angela] Just how I like sex.

Patty: I would think that you would welcome the opportunity to dress up, to look your best.
Angela: Who am I looking my best for?
Patty: For you! Of course this is for you! I mean, I don't...
Angela: Mom, just face the facts, okay?
Patty: What facts, what?
Angela: That I'm ugly, okay? Just face it -- I have.
Patty: How can you say that-- how can you possibly --
Angela: By looking in the mirror, okay? By looking at you, with the way you look at me.
Patty: How do I look at you?
Angela: By the way you instruct me on how to wash my face so I don't get zits. Like you have to fix me, like you're ashamed of me.
Patty: Oh, no -- Angela, sweetheart, no!
Angela: You expect me to beautiful, because you're beautiful. Well, I'm sorry -- I'm not. I'm just not.

Patty: I'm Patty Chase.
Amber: Hi.
Patty: Angela's mom?
Amber: Oh, WOW. Angela! Oh, Rayanne talks about her all the time. She's in love with her! She wants to be Angela.
Patty: Really! Gosh, they seem so different.
Amber: Oh, you know kids. They find one person and they just can't get enough of them! It's like being in love, only they're not allowed to have sex.
Patty: Riiiight.
Amber: No, don't you remember? There'd be, like, this one person, who had, like, perfect hair, or perfect breasts, or they were just so funny, and you just wanted to eat them up -- just live in their bed, and just be them. It's like everybody else was in black and white, and that person was in color. Well, Rayanne thinks Angela is in color. Major color.

Patty: It's always tempting to lose yourself with someone who's maybe lost themselves. But eventually, you want reality.

Patty: My husband and I read the stuff that the kids wrote --
Mr. Racine: Hope it didn't give him a heart attack. He seemed a bit fragile.
Patty: Actually, it isn't my husband who had the problem.
[Mr. Racine smiles]
Patty: I just think...there's this one piece in particular that I just don't feel comfortable printing.
Mr. Racine: Oh! You're afraid that Angela wrote it.
Patty: This has nothing to do with whether Angela wrote it.
Mr. Racine: So, this is just censorship for censorship's sake?
Patty: What?
Mr. Racine: Hand them over. I'll type them myself, and I'll have them Xeroxed.
Patty: These are children! We are adults! This is not censorship! This is guiding adolescents who need...guidance!
Mr. Racine: That is a very reasonable opinion, and very clearly stated. Unfortunately, it's total manure.
Patty: Excuse me?
Mr. Racine: It's horse manure. I sense you're angry. Are you angry?
Patty: Yes!
Mr. Racine: Yes! I sensed that! [laughs]
Patty: Why is it manure?
Mr. Racine: Good question. It is manure because this journal should be about giving these students a voice, not about having their thoughts edited. If these kids aren't afraid to put their hearts on the page, why should we be afraid of them?
Patty: You should really teach full-time.
Mr. Racine: We have a difference of opinion. Fine. But do you think you should be in the position of deciding because you run a printing press and I don't?
Patty: Do you expect me to answer that question?
Mr. Racine: Yes.
Patty: [pause] No, I don't.
[He hands the papers back to her and starts to leave]
Patty: So. Did Angela write it?
[He smirks and walks out]

Patty: Oh, a Christmas card from the Levettis?
Graham: So?
Patty: Well, I finally took them off the list! We haven't laid eyes on them since Danielle started solids, and now out of nowhere they send this?
Graham: Patty, it's a greeting card, not a dead fish.