Eleven articulate people work through affairs of the heart in L.A.

Paul: The wonderful thing about falling in love is you learn everything about that person and so quickly.And if it's true love, then you start to see yourself through their eyes. And it brings out the best in you. It's almost as if you're falling in love with yourself.
Keenan: What did I ever do to deserve you?
Joan: Usually that line is screamed at me by someone running out the door, not by someone standing in front of me and staying. It makes for a nice change.
Keenan: This may sound corny, but... you don't want me. I'm damaged goods.
Joan: So? We're all damaged goods.
Joan: The lad doesn't say much and when he does, he finds just the right words to crush my soul.
Keenan: That's the ugliest cat I've ever seen.
Joan: She's an angel.
Keenan: She only has one eye.
Joan: Yeah, but it's her good one.
Meredith: Wow.
Trent: Yeah I know, the flowers are a little much, but I'm late. But only because I had second thoughts about the flowers and threw them away halfway down the block. Then had third thoughts and went back and got them.
Paul: Don't look at me with that tone of voice.
Meredith: I have a hard time trusting men.
Trent: I'm not men. I'm not a group. I'm just me.
Paul: You know, I never knew what happiness was until I married your mother. And by then it was too late.
Meredith: [on the phone after Mark's funeral] Trent, is it too late to say "I love you"?
Trent: It's early.
Joan: Talking about love is like dancing about architecture.
Paul: When I came home that day I realised that I was more in love with you than ever before.
Hannah: Well how did that thunderbolt strike you?
Paul: Because I made a choice. I took one look at you and I knew I made the right choice. And Hannah: you're still the right choice.
Hannah: We made a child that day.
Paul: We did indeed. Our Jo-Jo.
Hannah: Yeah. We did indeed.
Paul: You're overwrought.
Hannah: I'm perfectly wrought. Given the circumstances, I'm even a little underwrought.
Paul: There's no such word.
Hannah: There is now.
Trent: You know I'm not just asking you to dinner as a pre-emptive strike against litigation. I'm asking because...
Meredith: I'll have dinner with you.
Trent: What changed your mind?
Meredith: Anyone who can say 'preemptive strike against litigation' with a straight face deserves a dinner companion.
Hannah: And you really didn't sleep with her?
Paul: No, of course not.
Hannah: And - you didn't want to sleep with her.
Paul: Oh, God, yes.
Joan: No, no, STOP. I've waited my entire life for somebody that I cared about to tell me they loved me and if you think you're getting out of this car now, you're INSANE.
Joan: You can't treat people the way you treat them and then say something adorable like that.
[Fumbling on a date]
Meredith: As you can see I'm not very good at this.
Trent: You're charming.
Meredith: I don't deal with passion well.
Trent: Maybe you don't like that loss of control. You prefer to be the director, telling everyone what to do.
Meredith: It's pretty painfully obvious, isn't it.
Trent: Somewhat painful, yes... You know there's something to find out about me.
Meredith: What's that?
Trent: That I take direction pretty well.
Joan: I feed the fucking thing. I take her to the vet, all you do is pet her twice a day... which is a HELL of a lot more than you've been doing to me lately.
Meredith: I'll tell you what I don't want. I don't want all this calculated artificiality. This dress, these stupid little bows in my hair, they aren't me. I mean, look at you. You - you don't sit around your house in an Armani suit, do you?
Trent: No. My house is black-tie.
Joan: I want to get rid of you as much as I want to get rid of that crap from Ikea.
Meredith: Look, Trent, you're a nice guy, I don't...
Trent: [groaning] Oh, oh, that's - you know...
[heading for the railing]
Trent: I'm swimming to shore, you can call the Coast Guard.
Meredith: Oh, come on!
Trent: Nice guy? That's - I haven't been dismissed with that since high school!
[pause]
Trent: Does that mean no second date?
Joan: [to waitress] I'll have a vodka martini, very dry, straight up. three olives, and... my sullen friend here will have...
Keenan: A Coke.
Joan: The poster boy for designated drivers will have a *Coke.*
Joan: Hugh designs video games.
Keenan: Any I'd know?
Hugh: Uh..."Killer Golf" That was the last.
Keenan: Oh, man. That game was awesome! You have a hell of an imagination.
Joan: Hey, you owe me a dance.
Keenan: Just one?
Joan: No.
Paul: [a waiter arrives with a tray of champagne] Ah, champagne!
[Paul offers a glass to Joan]
Paul: Jo-Jo?
Joan: [smiling self-consciously, waves it away] Oh, um, Dad, that's okay. Keenan and I are just going to have a couple of cokes.
Hannah: [Paul and Hannah look at each other, shocked that Joan has passed up alcohol, then they both look at Keenan] Keenan, have I said how very nice it is to meet you?
Joan: Funny.
Mark: This is a hell of a way for you to find out.
Mildred: Find out what?
Mark: Well, that I'm gay for one thing... come on, you never suspected?
Mildred: You were always so good at sports.
[They laugh]
Mildred: So what's the other thing?
Mark: What other thing?
Mildred: You said "that I'm gay for one thing" so what's the other thing?
Mark: That I'm dying.
Keenan: This... isn't anything. It's not anything now and it won't be anything ever.
Joan: WOW. Message received, end of date.
[On the Phone]
Joan: What, is that a rhetorical question? Why is my life so complicated? Gee, I don't know. Why is your life so fucking simple?
Max: I uh... I like your tight body. It looks like it would do what I tell it.
Joan: What?
Max: I said...
Joan: No, I heard what you said. And I'll admit 'What?' was a rather banal, cliché, noncolorful response. What I really meant to say was: 'Why don't you do the world a big fat fucking favor and crawl back into your mother's womb?'
Lana: That was quite a story. Right entertainin', but Sugar I don't know who you think you're foolin'
Hugh: What do you mean?
Lana: Lana may be three sheets to the preverbial wind, but I don't believe a single word coming out of your pretty, straight, little mouth.
Keenan: I can't stop thinking about you.
Joan: I love conversations that start with the guy saying "I can't stop thinking about you." Mind you I've never actually been on the receiving end of any of those conversations...
Keenan: Just looking at you makes me happy.
Joan: I have - I have to sit down.
[almost knocks over the chair sitting down]
Keenan: When we're together, whether or not I show it, I just can't wait to hear the next words out of your mouth. But right now I need to ask you to do something for me.
Joan: Anything.
Keenan: Shut up.
Joan: Last time I saw Harry he was wearing a blue sweater and an idiotic expression. The sweater was new.
Joan: You don't say much, do you?
Keenan: Does anyone when they're with you?
Keenan: You're terrific, sensational really, but I'm not right for you.
Keenan: My mind has an endless capacity for useless information.
Joan: When was having sex or not having sex not a problem?
Joan: Blanche can look at you with a gaze of unflappable superiority that springs from total detachment and disinterest... not unlike how you're looking at me know.
Max: Some girls like you to say things like that to them.
Joan: Some girls like you to take a dump on them. I'm neither one of those girls.
Paul: Well if I have to wear a tux, she has to wear a bra.
Mark: Let's play a game.
Mildred: Okay, want me to get a pack of cards?
Mark: Not that kind of game.
Mildred: Okay, what?
Mark: Tell me something that I don't know.
Mildred: What do you mean?
Mark: You know, something I wouldn't have known about you.
Mildred: Oh, I don't know...
Mark: Please, mom.
Mildred: Okay.
[pauses for about 2 seconds]
Mildred: Well, I never loved your father.
Mark: [totally shocked] What?
Mildred: I never did.
Mark: Wow, you're really good at this.
Mildred: Truth be told, when he died, I felt relieved more than anything else.
Mark: [still totally shocked] Gee, Mom, don't hold anything back.
Lana: I may be a fabulous looking broad, but I got a penis. This ain't no disco and I don't want no "Crying Game" drama.
Hugh: I'm better at all these lies I've manufactured than I am at the ones I'm living.
Meredith: Well, That doesn't take long does it?
Trent: What doesn't?
Meredith: I mean, you turn a guy down a-and WHAM. he just metamophoses into an anger ball.
Trent: An 'Anger ball'?
Meredith: See.
Hugh: Fucker works for NBC. He's sitting in my home, with my wife, and my dog, and he doesn't have to worry about the Thursday night fucking schedule.

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