RICHARD: Olive, can I tell you something about ice-cream? Ice-cream is made from cream, which comes from cow's milk. And cream has a lot of fat in it...
RICHARD: What? "She's gonna find out anyway." Right?
OLIVE: Find out what?
RICHARD: Well, when you eat ice-cream, the fat in the ice-cream becomes fat on your body...
SHERYL: Richard, I swear to God...!
OLIVE: What? What's wrong?
SHERYL: Nothing, honey. Nothing's wrong.
RICHARD: So if you eat lots of ice-cream, you're gonna become big and fat. But if you don't, you'll probably stay nice and skinny.
GRANDPA: Olive, Richard's an idiot. I like a woman with meat on her bones.
MECHANIC: Well, I tell you what: these old buses? You don't need a clutch to shift from third to fourth. You just ease up on the gas. You only really need the clutch for first and second. What I'm sayin' is: as long as you keep parkin' on a hill, you get yourself going' fifteen, twenty miles an hour, and you just start up in third. Then you shift between third and fourth.
RICHARD: And you can drive like that?
MECHANIC: Oh, yeah. The problem's just getting up that speed up. As long as you keep parkin' it on a hill, you're fine. My brother and I once drive from here to Canada...
RICHARD: What if you're not on a hill?
RICHARD: I mean, it's sitting here right now. There's no hill. How do we...?
MECHANIC: Well, I tell you what: You get enough people -- you just get behind and push. Just push it up to ten, fifteen miles an hour, and you just go. Everybody jump inside, and you just go!
FRANK: How about that...!
RICHARD: And I can detect that note of sarcasm, Frank...
FRANK: What sarcasm?!
RICHARD: ... But I just want you to know -- I feel sorry for you.
FRANK: You do? Good.
RICHARD: Because sarcasm is the refuge of losers.
FRANK: It is?! Really?!
RICHARD: Sarcasm is just the sour grapes of losers trying to pull winners down to their level. That's one of the lessons of Step Four.
FRANK: Wow, Richard! You've really opened my eyes to what a loser I am! Say, how much do I owe you for those pearls of wisdom?
RICHARD: It's on me, buddy. It's on me.
FRANK: I'm gonna get a drink. You guys want anything?
GRANDPA: Yeah. Get me some porn. Something really nasty. None of that air-brush shit, alright? Here, here's a twenty. Get a little treat for yourself too, if they got any fag-rags in there.
FRANK: Where's Olive?
GRANDPA: There you go. Snug as a bug in a rug.
OLIVE: I'm kind of scared about tomorrow.
GRANDPA: Olive, you're gonna blow 'em out of the water. I guarantee it. They won't know what hit 'em.
OLIVE: But what if I lose tomorrow?
GRANDPA: Whoa, whoa, back up a second. You can't lose. You know why? Because a real loser is someone who's so afraid of not winning they don't even try. That's not you! You're in the contest! You're gonna dance! So even if you win, or you don't win, you've already won! See? You see? You-see-you-see-you-see?
DWAYNE: "Please don't kill yourself tonight"
FRANK: Not on your watch. I wouldn't do that to you.
RICHARD: What is it, hon...?
OLIVE: Grandpa won't wake up.
OLIVE: Dad? What's gonna happen to Grandpa?
RICHARD: Honey, as soon as we get to Florida, I'm gonna call a funeral home in Maryland and they'll take care of everything. Your Grandpa was smart and planned ahead. Okay?
SHERYL; Honey, Grandpa's soul is in Heaven now. He's with God. Okay?
OLIVE: Uncle Frank? Does everyone get to go to Heaven?
FRANK: That's an excellent question, Olive. Actually, the Hindus believe that you get as many lives as you want. Buddhists believe that you live many lives but at a certain point you reach Nirvana and cross the finish line. Christians believe you only get one life -- they don't believe in do-overs.
OLIVE: What do you believe?
FRANK: I dunno. I haven't made my mind up. What about you?
OLIVE: I think everyone goes to Heaven.
FRANK: Even me?
FRANK: You promise?
TROOPER: How're you folks doing' today?
RICHARD: Fine! Doin' fine! [honk] Sorry!
TROOPER: Having trouble with your horn?
RICHARD: Yeah a little trouble. [honk] Sorry! [honk] Sorry!
FRANK: Don't apologize, Rich! It's a sign of weakness!
FRANK: Dwayne. I think you're colorblind. You can't fly jets in the Navy if you're colorblind.
KIRBY: ... And you're done! Here's you receipt; tickets; sash; tiara. Anything else?
RICHARD: Yeah. Is there a funeral home around here?
FRANK: Hey, you know, facing the wall like that...? There's no way you gonna stop me from killing myself. No way! I could be out of the window before you even turn around.
FRANK: Man, it's beautiful out here. I don't know if I believe in God, but that ocean -- it's always here for you: infinitely bigger than you are, and completely indifferent. So... My version of God.
DWAYNE: Frank...? What'd it feel like when you cut your wrists?
FRANK: You know, I wish I could tell you I felt bad. But I didn't. I was... Outside the world, y'know? It was very peaceful. But, I'm feeling that way now, too, so...
DWAYNE: Sometimes I wish I could just go to sleep until I was eighteen. Just skip all this crap -- high school and everything. Just skip it...
FRANK: Y'ever hear of Marcel Proust?
DWAYNE: He's the guy you teach?
FRANK: Yeah, French writer. Total loser. Never had a real job. Unrequited love affairs. Gay. Spent twenty years writing a book almost no one reads. But... he was also probably the greater writer since Shakespeare. Anyway, he gets down to the end of his life, he looks back and he decides that all the years he suffered -- those were the best years of his life. Because they made him who he was. They forced him to think very deeply. And the years he was happy? Total waste. Didn't learn anything.
So, if you sleep til you're eighteen... Think of the suffering you'd miss! High school's your prime suffering years. You don't get better suffering than that! Unless you go into academia, but that's a different story.
DWAYNE: You know what...? Fuck beauty contests. It's like life is one fucking beauty contest after another these days. School, then college, then work. Fuck it. Fuck the Naval Academy. Fuck the MacArthur Foundation. If I want to fly, I'll find a way to fly. You do what you love and fuck the rest.
FRANK: I'm glad you're talking again, Dwayne. You're not nearly as stupid as you look. So now what do we do?
DWAYNE: You got me, Frank. Maybe we can stay out here forever.
RICHARD: I don't want Olive to go on.
SHERYL: Are you kidding...?!!!
RICHARD: We're not in Maryland anymore, all right? She's out of her league here.
RICHARD: Sheryl...! She's not gonna win. There's no fucking way.
SHERYL: It doesn't matter...!
RICHARD: It does matter!
SHERYL: It doesn't matter!
RICHARD: It does!!! I don't want her to lose. I know what that feels like. It's not good. We can't let that happen.
DWAYNE: Where's Olive?
SHERYL: In the dressing room. What's up?
DWAYNE: I don't want Olive doing this.
SHERYL: Oh, my God...!
DWAYNE: Mom, look around! This place is fucked! I don't want these people judging Olive! Fuck them!
RICHARD: Exactly! Fuck them!
SHERYL: No, Dwayne. It's too late...
DWAYNE: It's not too late! You're the Mom! You're supposed to protect her!
OLIVE: I'd like to dedicate this to my Grandpa, who helped me do this routine.
MC: That's sweet! Is he here? Where's your Grandpa right now?
OLIVE: He's in the trunk of our car.