Homer: Where the hell are my keys? Who stole my keys? Come on, I'm late for work! (Lifts Maggie and looks underneath)
Marge: Oh Homer, you'd lose your head if it weren't securely fastened to your neck.
Bart: Did you check the den?
Homer: The den! Great idea!
(Homer heads into the den with Bart following him and Homer begins to pull couch apart.)
Bart: Warm. No, cold. Colder. Ice cold.
Homer: You know where my keys are?
Bart: No, I'm talking about your breakfast.

Bart: You know, there are names for people like you.
Lisa: No, there aren't.
Bart: Teacher's pet, apple polisher, butt kisser--
Homer: Bart! You're saying "butt kisser" like it's a bad thing.
Bart: Huh?
(Homer pats his leg and Bart sits on his lap.)
Homer: Well, you see, boy, it never hurts to grease the wheels a little.
Lisa: I'm not greasing the wheels, Dad. I like my teacher.
Homer: Sure, Lis. You see how it works, Bart? A cupcake her, a good grade there.
Lisa: Dad, I get good grades 'cause I'm smart and I pay attention and I study hard.
Homer: Yeah, right, Lisa. It's the three roads to success, Bart: work, brains and--
(Homer grabs one of Lisa's cupcakes.)
Homer: Hmm?
Lisa: Oh, brother.

Marge: This bully friend of yours, is he a little on the chunky side?
Bart: Yeah, he's pretty chunkified, all right.
Marge: Mm-hmm. And I'll bet he doesn't do well in his studies, either.
Bart: No, he's pretty dumb. He's in all the same special classes I am.
Marge: That's why he lashes out at the world.
Homer: Oh, Marge.
Marge: So tomorrow, instead of bickering with this boy, talk to him. You'll be surprised how far a little understanding will go.
Homer: Well, thank you very much, Mrs. Maharishi Gandhi.
(Homer takes Bart by the hand.)
Homer: Let's go, boy.

(Homer prepares Bart for the sack race at the company picnic.)
Homer: You remember the rules from last year?
Bart: Yeah. Shut my mouth and let your boss win.

Homer: Are you sure that's enough? You know how the boss loves your delicious gelatin desserts!
Marge: Oh, Homer, Mr. Burns just said he liked it...once.
Homer: Marge, that's the only time he's ever spoken to me without using the word "bonehead."

Dr. Monroe: Hello, I'm Doctor Marvin Monroe. No doubt you recognize me from TV.
Lisa: We would if we had one.
Homer: Lisa!

Homer: Now look, you know and I know this family needs help, professional help. So I've made us an appointment with Dr. Marvin Monroe.
Bart: The fat guy on TV?
Lisa: You're sending us to see a doctor who advertises on pro wrestling?
Homer: Boxing Lisa, boxing. There's a world of difference.

Homer: To save this family, we're going to have to make the supreme sacrifice.
Lisa: No, Dad. Please don't pawn the TV!
Bart: Aw, come on, Dad, anything but that!
Marge: Homer, couldn't we pawn my engagement ring instead?
Homer: Now, I appreciate that honey, but we need $150 here.
Pawn Shop Owner: Afternoon, Simpson. So, what can I do for ya?
Homer: Would you pay $150 for this lovely Motorola?
Pawn Shop Owner: Is it cable ready?
Homer: Ready as she'll ever be.
Pawn Shop Owner: Mister, you got yourself a deal.

Homer: Okay, now look; my boss is going to be at this picnic, so I want you to show your father some love and/or respect.
Lisa: Tough choice.
Bart: I'm picking respect.

You know, Moe, my mom once said something that really stuck with me. She said, "Homer, you're a big disappointment," and god bless her soul, she was really onto something.

Homer: You know, I defy anyone to tell the difference between these doughnuts and the ones baked today. Hey, my boy's supposed to be here any second on a field trip. They been through here yet?
Co-worker: Come on, Simpson. If they wanted the kids to see you sitting around on your butt and stuffin' your face, they'd take them on a tour of your house.

Kill myself? Killing myself is the last thing I'd ever do. Now I have a purpose, a reason to live. I don't care who I have to face. I don't care who I have to fight. I will not rest until this street gets a stop sign!

The Simpsons Quotes

Larry: What you got riding on this?
Homer: My daughter.
Larry: What a gambler!

Maggie? Oh, you must be sick. Let's see, what's old Dr. Washburn prescibe? Do you have dropsy? The grippe? Scofula? The vapors? Jungle rot? Dandy fever? Poor man's gout? Housemaid's knee? Climatic poopow? The staggers? Dum-dum fever?

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