Mom: Uncle Max, have you seen Timon?
Uncle Max: No, I haven't... And what a day it's been. No fractures, no lacerations, concussions, contusions of any sort. As a matter of fact there's no sign of Timon's handy-work anywhere.
Mom: Everything the light touches... Belongs to someone else.
Timon: Funny, I thought you were going in a whole different direction.
Homer Simpson: Marge, in every marriage you get one chance to say, "I need you to do this with me." And there's only one answer when somebody says that.
Marge Simpson: OK Homie, I'm with ya.
Homer: Thank you my sweetheart.
Bart Simpson: Mom?
Marge: Yes honey?
Bart: You just bought another load of crap from the world's fattest fertiliser salesman!
Marge Simpson: I hate being late.
Homer Simpson: Well I hate going. Why can't I worship the Lord in my own way: by praying like hell on my deathbed.
Marge Simpson: Homer, they can hear you inside!
Homer Simpson: Relax. Those pious morons are too busy talking to their phony-baloney God.
[Stony stares from the congregation.]
Homer Simpson: Hey, how you doing? Peace be with you. Praise Jebus.
Homer: Marge, since I'm not talking to Lisa, could you please ask her to pass me the syrup?
Marge: Please pass your father the syrup, Lisa.
Lisa: Bart, tell Dad I'll only pass the syrup if it won't be used on any meat product.
Bart: You dunkin' your sausage in that syrup Homeboy?
Homer: Marge, tell Bart I just want to drink a nice glass of syrup like I do every morning.
Marge: Tell him yourself, you're ignoring Lisa, not Bart.
Homer: Bart, thank your mother for pointing that out.
Marge: Homer, you're not not talking to me, and secondly I heard what you said.
Homer: Lisa, tell your mother to get off my case.
Bart: Uh, Dad, Lisa's the one you're not talking to.
Homer: Bart, go to your room!
Lisa: Why don't you just eat him, Dad?
Homer: I don't need any serving suggestions from you, you barbecue-wrecking know-nothing know-it-all.