Homer: (calmly) This is even more painful than it looks.
Marge: Lisa? Lisa?
[Marge finds Lisa in kitchen asleep at the table, phone receiver in hand as she could not resist her addiction to the Corey hotline]
Marge: Oh, Lisa. Well, you tried.
[Marge picks up phone to see what is on other line]
Operator: At the tone, the time will be 12 o'clock, midnight. *BEEP!*
Lisa: Did I make it?
Marge: Yes, honey!
Dr. Hibbert: [to Lisa, after placing eardrops in both of her ears] Now, you just let those eardrops sit for about 20 minutes. If you get bored, here's a M*A*S*H coloring book. Here's a good one: Hawkeye's antics irritate the other surgeons. [laughs]
[Dr. Hibbert departs his office. Seeing his office phone unattended, Lisa sees a chance to call the Corey hotline while adhering to the letter of the law of her promise to Homer and Marge that "they will never be billed for another call"]
Corey: Hi, you've reached the Corey hotline. $4.95 a minute. Here are some words that rhyme with Corey: gory, story, allegory, Montessori...
[Springfield Retirement Castle. Lisa is visiting Grandpa, who has dozed off. Seeing his phone unguarded, this gives her another chance to sneak a call]
Corey: Hi, this is Corey. I hope you and I can get married some day.
[Springfield Elementary School]
Principal Skinner: Lisa, I know I can trust you to inventory this glee club peanut brittle.
Lisa: Yes, Principal Skinner.
Principal Skinner: Now, I've gotta slash 40% out of the budget.
[Lisa dials the Corey hotline, unaware of the acute hearing of Principal Skinner, who has sharp hearing despite being in the passageway]
Principal Skinner: [talking to himself] So long...science. Ah, music and art. [hears dialing] What in blazes!? Good Lord. That's a 900-number!
Corey: Let's see what's in the newspaper today. Hmm...Canada stalls on trade pact...
[Principal Skinner enters the storeroom. Lisa has been caught]
[Homer has run out of the house naked]
Flanders: Hey, Homie, I can see your doodle.
Homer: Shut up, Flanders.
[During "Show & Tell" at school]
Bart: Someday, I want to be an F-14 pilot like my hero Tom. He lent me this new weapon called a neuro-disruptor. [aims it and fires it at Martin, who convulses and collapses; the other kids applaud politely]
Ms. Krabappel: He's not dead, is he, Bart?
Bart: Nah, but I wouldn't give him any homework for a while.
Ms. Krabappel: Very good, Bart. Thank you.
Bart: Oh, don't thank me. Thank an unprecedented 8-year military build-up.
Ms. Krabappel: Hmm. Milhouse, you're next.
Milhouse: Uh, (shows a toy horse) I have a horsie. (imitates the horse neigh, then sighs)
Homer: What am I supposed to do!
Homer's Brain: Pick up Bart! Pick up Bart!
Homer: "Pick a bar?" What the hell is "pick a bar?"
TV Announcer: Tonight, on "Wings"... Ah, who cares?
Homer: [to Bart] Where you goin', boy?
Bart: Father/Son picnic.
Homer: Have a good time. (Bart slams the front door) Wait a minute.
Bart: [to Tom] You've been really great to me, but there's probably some other kid who needs you even more.
Tom: Bart, I could kiss you. If the "Bigger Brothers" didn't make me sign a form promising I wouldn't.
Pepe: I love you, Papa Homer.
Homer: I love you, too, Pepsi.
Bart: Remember when Tom had you in that headlock and you screamed, "I'm a hemophiliac!" and when he let you go, you kicked him in the back?
Bart: Will you teach me how to do that?
Homer: Sure, boy. First, you gotta shriek like a woman and keep sobbing until he turns away in disgust. That's when it's time to kick some back. And then when he's lying down on the ground...