Moe: Pretty much if it moves, you can bet on it.
Homer: What about the Detroit Lions?
Moe: Hey, lay off Detroit. Them people is livin' in Mad Max times.

I moved here because on a calculator, the ZIP Code spells "boobs."

Selma: What a cheap date.
Moe: I'm not cheap baby. I'm embarrassed to be seen with you. There's a big difference.

Moe: And that's that. Another story in the classic infallible three-act structure. Good enough for Aristotle, good enough for The Simpsons.
Lisa: Mr. Szyslak I have feeling there's going to be one more act to this story.
Moe: Well I'm not hanging around for that. Pfftt. Four acts.

Moe: They're headed for the old mill!
Homer: No we're not!
Moe: Well then, let's go to the old mill anyway to get some cider!

Lenny: Homer, don't be so quick to abandon this paparazzo thing.
Carl: Yeah, it's the American tradition to cut people down to size because they're brought so much joy into our lives.
Lenny: You know who I can't stand? That Robin Williams. You know one time I saw him eating dinner with his children. He wouldn't take the time out to do all the funny bits from his movies.
Carl: And my sister once saw Burt Reynolds at an airport, and he wouldn't even cosign her mortgage.
Homer: You guys are right! I should get back into the game. (Moaning) Oh, but I threw away my camera!
Moe: Oh, here. (Hands Homer his camera) Use this one. I was gonna use it to take secret photos in the ladies' toilet, but no dames ever come in this joint.
Homer: Thanks, Moe. (Leaves the bar)
Moe: Sure.
(Two pretty women enter)
Woman #1: Excuse me, do you have a ladies' room?
Woman #2: We need to trade bras and panties.
Moe: Oh! You gotta be kidding me! (Breaks a beer bottle horizontally with his hands.)

Marge: Any minute now, he'll scamper through that doggy door.
Homer: Any minute now, I'll be the dog she's lookin' for.
Barney, Moe, Lenny, and Carl: Any minute now, you'll be stuck with her brood.
Patty and Selma: Any minute now, this pooch will know she's screwed.
Marge: My hearts tells me to trust him.
Patty and Selma: But your head knows he's a hound.
Homer: I want to do the right thing.
Moe: Come on! With all this high class tail around?
(Hooker Dog smokes a cigarette, coughs badly)
Fleas: Any minute now, our girl will make a brand new start.
Patty and Selma: Yes!
Marge: Any minute now, I won't care that broke my heart.
Marge and Homer: Annnny minnnute nooooow.

Marge: I don't think the guns are a good idea!
Homer: Marge! We're responsible adults a--
(Gun shot)
Moe: Whoops!
Homer: And if a group of responsible adults can't handle firearms in a responsible way--
(Gun shot)
Captain McCallister: Sorry!
(gun shot)
Principal Skinner: Uh oh!
(Gun shot)
Moe: Me again...
(Gun shot)
Bart: Sorry.

Moe: Now let's have a minute of silent prayer for our good friend, Homer Simpson.
Barney: How long has it been?
Moe: Six seconds.
Barney: Do we have to start over?
Moe: Hell no.

Simon: How do you like LA?
Moe: It's a hell of a city. It's like someone stepped on New York and scraped it off on the beach.

Moe: Linda Ronstadt?! How did you get her?
Barney: Ah, we've been looking for a project to do together for a while.

Moe: Flaming Moe's.
Bart: Uh, yes, I'm looking for a friend of mine. Last name Jass. First name Hugh.
Moe: Uh, hold on, I'll check. (Calling) Hugh Jass! Somebody check the men's room for a Hugh Jass!
Hugh: Uh, I'm Hugh Jass.
Moe: Telephone. (Hands over the receiver)
Hugh: Hello, this is Hugh Jass.
Bart: (Surprised) Uh, hi.
Hugh: Who's this?
Bart: Bart Simpson.
Hugh: Well, what can I do for you, Bart?
Bart: Uh, look, I'll level with you, Mister. This is a crank call that sort of backfired, and I'd like to bail out right now.
Hugh: All right. Better luck next time. (hangs up) What a nice young man.

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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