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Homer: Doc, this is all too much. I mean, my son a genius? How does it happen?
Dr. Pryor: Well, genius-level intelligence is usually the result of heredity and environment.
(Homer looks confused.)
Dr. Pryor: Although, in some cases, it's a total mystery.

Principal Skinner: Whoever did this is in very deep trouble.
Martin: And a sloppy speller too. The preferred spelling of "wiener" is 'W-I-E-N-E-R', although 'E-I' is an acceptable ethnic variant.

Martin: Bart, I hope you won't bear some sort of simpleminded grudge against me. I was merely trying to fend off the desecration of the school building.
Bart: Eat my shorts.

Now, I don't want you to worry class. These tests will have no affect on your grades. They merely determine your future social status and financial success. If any.

Mrs. Krabappel

Marge: Bart, I feel so bad for going so many years without, mmm, hmm--What's that word where you encourage something to grow?
Bart and Homer: (Both mumble "I don't know," in unison.)
Lisa: Nurturing.
Marge: Nurturing your brilliant brain, so I got tickets to the opera tonight. Hurry up. Get dressed. It starts at 8:00.
Bart: Oh, Mom. Not tonight!
Homer: Come on, Bart, your mother's only trying to help, so go ahead and enjoy the show.
Marge: Homer, you're going too.
Homer: But I'm not a genius. Why should I suffer?

(At the breakfast table.)
Marge: Bart, this is a big day for you. Why don't you eat something a little more nutritious?
Homer: Nonsense, Marge. Frosted Krusty Flakes are what got him where he is today.
(Homer reads the cereal box.)
Homer: It could be one of these chemicals here that makes him so smart. Lisa, maybe you should try some of this.
Marge: Homer!
Homer: I'm just saying why not have two geniuses in the family? Sort of a spare in case Bart's brain blows up.
(Homer and Marge walk out of the kitchen.)
Lisa: I don't care what that stupid test says, Bart. You're a dimwit.
Bart: Maybe so, but from now on this dimwit is on easy street.

Don't be discouraged, son. I bet Einstein turned himself all sorts of colors before he invented the light bulb.


Dr. Pryor: The child is not supposed to know his own IQ, of course, but, uh, you can see it's beyond the range of any doubt.
(Dr. Pryor hands Homer a slip of paper with Bart's IQ on it.)
Homer: Nine hundred and twelve!
Dr. Pryor: Uh, no. You have it upside-down. It's two hundred and sixteen.

Now go on, boy, and pay attention. Because if you do, one day you may achieve something that we Simpsons have dreamed about for generations. You may outsmart someone.

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