Nuru : My life is a soiled tattered tissue, tossed into the toilet of life. What will I do now?
Giles : You could write poetry.
[Nuru smiles sheepishly]
Nuru : What do you do at *the gym*?
Alim : I pump iron.
Nuru : You don't even pump your own petrol.
Nuru : Besides, I'm lactose intolerant.
Giles : [smiling to himself] Alim's not.
Nuru : [upon seeing how tight Alim's jeans are] No, the trousers are not fine. I can read your... credit card number.
Nuru : Laughter is the very best medicine, hmm?
Alim : Then I must be in the placebo group.
Nuru : You can't be engaged.
Alim : Why?
Nuru : Because she's not, she's not... m-... m-... m-. Is she?
Alim : "Not m-". Ah, Muslim.
Giles : She's not m-ale either...
Nuru : You knew about Alim and Khaled? How?
Dolly : Their room was right beside ours. Your son has quite a set of lungs on him.
Nuru : Oh my God!
Dolly : Yes, like that! Exactly like that.
Nuru : I don't see how you could go ahead with the nuptials.
Dolly : What do you mean?
Nuru : Nuptials. It means...
Dolly : I know what nuptials mean, my son is a dentist!
Nuru : I know about men with men. I subscribe to Reader's Digest.
Nuru : You butter while I pickle.
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