You don’t understand, Marge. The lottery is the one ray of hope in my otherwise unbearable life! ...Uh, the lottery and you.— Homer
Homer: It’s a murder, honey. A group of crows is called a murder.
Homer: I could go up to the President and blow smoke in his stupid monkey face, and he'd just have to sit there groovin' on it!
Homer: Marge, I just realised, I am the "ow" in the word "now". (menacingly) And if you tell anyone...
Mr. Burns: I have to raise sixty million dollars or we're out of business.
Smithers: Why is that, sir?
Mr. Burns: I told you - I pissed it away!
Otto: They call 'em fingers, but I've never see 'em fing...Oh, there they go.
Otto: Hey, 'Shemp' is 'hemp' spelled backwards!
Homer: And 'Otto' is 'Otto' backwards!
Otto: ...Now I'm scared.
Homer: Wow, that saxophone would make a great pipe.
Lisa: I want my old dad back, the one that was yelling all the time and... you know, I'm not really sure what I want.
Trey (Phish): Wait wait wait! Hold on! Stop, I smell marijuana smoke.
Page (Phish): That had better be medicinal. If Phish don't see a perscription we are outta here.
Jon (Phish): We can wait all night people... (Hans Moleman hands him a perscription slip) Wow, this guy is seriously ill.
Hans Moleman: My doctor didn't tell me. I had to hear it from Phish.
Moe: This ain't no crow bar. (reaching under the bar) This is a crowbar. (pulls out...a painting) See? They got the little stools... and everything?
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