In the Bedroom
Matt Fowler 
- Well, look. He lost an arm. The trap has nylon nets called "heads". Two side heads to let the lobster crawl in. And inside, what's called a bedroom head holds the bait...and keep him from escaping. You know the old saying: "Two's company, three's a crowd"? Well, it's like that. More than two of these in a bedroom and something like that's happen. That's why Frank can't leave these traps for more than a day.
Ruth Fowler 
- [about her grief] It's like the moments between waves crashing--or pauses in music. There's no noise, but it's deafening.
- Matt: Look, I know that sometimes I let him get away with...
- [Ruth interrupts him, smashing a plate on the floor]
- Ruth: EVERYTHING!
- Ruth': He needs his head in school, not in her.
- Matt: So to speak.
- Matt: Do you wanna know why our son is dead? Do you really wanna know? He went there not because of me. He was with her not because of me. He went there because of you. Because you are so controlling, so overbearing, so angry, that he was it! That he was our only son!
- Ruth: That is not true!
- Matt: Oh, yes it is. Yes, it is. Ever since he was little, you were telling him how he was wrong. I remember, one time you yanked him out of a little league game and sent him home, for throwing his glove in the dirt. He was what? Nine years old. Everything he did was wrong. Well, what was wrong with him, Ruth? You are so unforgiving. You are. That's what he said. And now you're pulling the same shit with me, and that's a horrible way to be. It's a horrible. You're bitter, Ruth. And you can point your finger all you want at me, but you better take a damn good look at yourself first.