You don’t understand, Marge. The lottery is the one ray of hope in my otherwise unbearable life! ...Uh, the lottery and you.— Homer
Kent Brockman: Kent Brockman at the Action News desk. A massive tanker has run aground on the central coastline, spilling millions of gallons of oil on Baby Seal Beach.
Lisa: Oh no!
Homer: It'll be okay, honey. There's lots more oil where that came from.
Marge: Now the cat needs his medication every morning and the furnace has been putting off...
Homer: No problem. Can do. Right. Uh-huh.
Marge: ... a lot of carbon monoxide, so keep the window open.
Homer: Gotcha. Cat in the furnace.
Marge: Uh, you know, I think we'll take Maggie with us.
Bart: Dad, do I have to brush my teeth?
Homer: No, but at least rinse your mouth out with soda.
Belle: Your son was trespassing on my property and destroyed a very valuable stone gargoyle, and... are you wearing a grocery bag?
Homer: I have misplaced my pants.
Homer: Aw, I don't know how to punish you. What does Marge usually do?
Bart: She makes me taste beer.
Homer: Come on, boy, give your old man a little credit. (Trash falls out of the grocery bag round his waist) Yeah...well, I still get to punish you.
Bart: Wow, man, what is this place?
Belle: I prefer not to be called "man." My name is Belle, and this is the Maison Derriere. That means the, uh, "Back House."
Homer: Where is Bart, anyway? His dinner's getting all cold and eaten.
Homer: Bart, where are you? Come on! I have to be up at 6am to swipe Flanders' newspaper.
Homer: Uh, this isn't going to be about Jesus, is it?
Reverend Lovejoy: All things are about Jesus, Homer, except this.
Marge: I've lived in this town for thirty-seven years.
Belle: I've lived here fifty-two years.
Marge: I'm third generation.
Marge: Get out of my town!
Bart: (in song) To shut them down now would be twisted.
Jimbo, Dolph & Kearney: We just heard this place existed!