Svetlana: (to Mickey) I hate the penis. Ugly fucking skin stick. Always trying to get in where it doesn't belong. You like boys. Maybe I like girls. No penis is staring at you, hoping to explode like sticky volcano. America, it's land of choices, yes? Freedom to be me. Freedom to be you. McDonald's, Burger King on same block. You choose. One, both. Shit, maybe we go to Wendy's instead.
Officer Gayle Johnson: Not many white picket fences where we come from.
Fiona: You're South Side?
Officer Gayle Johnson: Born and raised. My dad drank. I loved him, but he was a drunk. But you a grown-up. There comes a point in time that you got to take control of your own life. Whatever you from, whoever did you wrong, didn't do what they were supposed to do, wasn't being who they was supposed to be? It's just you. No more excuses.
Sheila Jackson: Why didn't you tell me you had a grandfather?
Gary: He doesn't have wi-fi.
Mickey: (about Ian) What's wrong with him?
Fiona: Uh, depression, I think.
Mickey: He- he's depressed? What do you mean he's- We all get fucking depressed. How the fuck could we not, living around here?
Fiona: It's not that kind of depressed, okay? Look, I could be wrong, but it could be bipolar disease, like our mom.
Mickey: Bi- bi- bi- What? What the fuck is that?
Mandy: It's manic depression, Mick.
Fiona: It's like high highs followed by low lows, over and over again.
Frank: What's going on out there?
Carl: Catfight. Sammi and Sheila.
Frank: Over what?
Carl: You, I think.
Frank: Who's winning?
Carl: Hard to tell. Maybe the rent-a-cops.
Lip: Bipolar, huh?
Fiona: Can't be sure. But it looked painfully familiar.
Lip: We should have some of Monica's lithium somewhere. It's not like she ever took it.
Fiona: And I always worried it'd be me.
Lip: Oh, there's still time. You know, I hear you could have your first psychotic break anytime in your teens or 20s.
Fiona: Mental illness Russian roulette with Monica's DNA as the bullet. Is alcoholism genetic?
Lip: It's the nurture part of nature and nurture. All about the environment you grow up in.
Fiona: Oh, that's very encouraging.
Fiona: It was me, Lip. Not Frank. Not Monica. Not nature. Not nurture. It was all me. I'm 23. It can't be about how much they screwed us up anymore.
Lip: It sounds kind of like AA.
Lip: You been drinking the big book Kool-Aid?
Fiona: A bit. Attendance is a condition of my parole.
Lip: You're not perfect, Fiona. None of us are.
Frank: That all you got? That's it? I'm still here, you fucker! Frank Gallagher! I'm alive! You see me? You see me standing here? You lost, asshole! I'm alive, motherfucker! Me, Frank Gallagher! Alive. Alive.