George: All I said was that our son, the apple of our three eyes, Martha being a cyclops, our son is a beanbag, and you get testy!

George: And that's how you play "Get the Guests".

George: Did you really think I was going to kill you, Martha?
Martha: You, kill me? That's a laugh.
George: Well now, I might some day.
Martha: Fat chance.

George: Good. Better. Best. Bested.

George: I used to drink brandy.
Martha: You used to drink bergen, too.

George: I'm very impressed.
Martha: You're damn right.
George: I said I was impressed. I'm beside myself with jealousy. What do you want me to do, throw up?

George: Martha is 108... years old. She weighs somewhat more than that.

George: Martha, in my mind you're buried in cement right up to the neck. No, up to the nose, it's much quieter.

George: Martha, will you show her where we keep the, uh, euphemism?

George: Martha's got money because Martha's father's second wife, not Martha's mother but after Martha's mother died, was a very old lady with warts who was very rich.
Nick: She was a witch!
George: She was a good witch, and she married the white mouse with the tiny red eyes and he must have nibbled her warts or something like that, because she went up in a puff of smoke almost immediately. Poof!
Nick: Poof!
George: Poof! And all that was left, aside from some wart medicine, was a big fat will.
Nick: Your wife never mentioned a stepmother.
George: Maybe it isn't true.