FRANK: Well, talk fast.
COLLEEN: Larry says he'll never speak to me again unless I grow up. He says that I"m being ridiculous and I don't love him, but I do love him. Am I being ridiculous?
FRANK: You're not being ridiculous.
COLLEEN: Well, do all the other girls, like Larry says? And am I just being old-fashioned?
FRANK: The same idiots were passing the same rumors when I was your age. But if all the girls did, how come I always ended up with the ones who didn't?
COLLEEN: But it's all different now.
FRANK: I don't know, they wrote Fanny Hill in 1742 and they haven't found anything new since.
A YOUNGER DAUGHTER: Who's Fanny Hill?
FRANK: Go to bed, that's who Fanny Hill is.
HELEN: What are you two talking about?
FRANK: Take a good look at your mother.
HELEN: Not now.
FRANK: Yes, now. It's giving life that counts. Until you're ready for it all the rest is just a big fraud. All the crazy haircuts in the world won't keep it turning. Life isn't a love-in, it's the dishes and the orthodontist and the shoe repairman and ground round instead of roast beef. And I'll tell you something else: it isn't going to bed with a man that proves you're in love with him, it's getting up in the morning and facing the drab, miserable, wonderful, everyday world with him that counts.
I suppose having 19 kids is carrying it a bit too far, but if we had it to do over, who would we skip? You?