Look Marge, you don’t know what it’s like - I’m the one out there every day putting his ass on the line. And I’m not out of order! You’re out of order! The whole freaking system is out of order! You want the truth? You want the truth? You can’t handle the truth! ’Cause when you reach over and put your hand into a pile of goo that was your best friend’s face, you’ll know what to do!! Forget it Marge, it’s Chinatown!!!— Homer
Bart: You ate my homework? I didn't know dogs really did that.
Mrs. Krabappel: Bart Simpson, you're late. Go fill out a tardy slip.
Bart: But I'm only five... (looks at clock) ten, twenty... forty minutes? That's pretty damn late!
Ralph: I'm going to each chocolate 'til I barf!
Skinner: Oh, licking envelopes can be fun! All you have to do is make a game of it.
Bart: What kind of game?
Skinner: Well, for example, you could see how many you could lick in an hour, then try to break that record.
Bart: Sounds like a pretty crappy game to me.
Skinner: Yes, well... Get started.
Fat Tony: Pick a horse, kid. We're putting two dollars on the third race. Make it a good one.
Bart: Eat my shorts!
Fat Tony: Eat My Shorts? Okay, let's see... wait a minute, you little punk! Eat My Shorts is in the fifth race! I said the third race!
Homer: How much does it pay?
Bart: Thirty bucks a week!
Homer: Pfft, I make more than that.
Wiggum: Fat Tony is a cancer on this fair city. He is the cancer, and I am the... uh, what cures cancer?
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