Georgia: So you move into town, move into a trendy toaster and you unilaterally get to decide what’s best for her?
Zion: Oh, you mean like when you took off in the middle of the night, and I didn’t see her for a year?
Georgia: I was 16. You’re 34. We don’t keep secrets.

I know you did a lot for me and I know it was hard. But until now, I’ve never lived in a town long enough to have a friend.

Georgia: You know what I like about you, Joe?
Joe: What do you like about me?
Georgia: I never feel like you’re judging me.

Ginny: I feel like we haven’t left this couch in days.
Georgia: We are the couch. The couch is us.

Georgia: No lawyers. Gil wouldn’t like that.
Paul: I don’t particularly care what Gil likes.

But you’re not friends. You’re mother and daughter. Do you feel you respect Ginny’s boundaries?


Ginny: I’m sorry about the poem, mom
Georgia: I’m not doing this here, Virginia.
Ginny: I didn’t mean to embarrass you.
Georgia: I said it was fine.
Ginny: You can’t even look at me!

I understand you are going through a hard time with Ginny, but I won’t allow you to disrespect me. Not at work and not at home. I live there now, and I won’t be disrespected in my own home. I’m there waiting for you to let me in.


Show me! You burn yourself? Show me!

Georgia: My special beautiful girl, why would you do that?
Ginny: I need it. I want to stop.

Paul to Zion: We don’t like him, do we?
Zion: No, we don’t.

I need you to listen to me, Mom, and know what you do impacts me.