Look Marge, you don’t know what it’s like - I’m the one out there every day putting his ass on the line. And I’m not out of order! You’re out of order! The whole freaking system is out of order! You want the truth? You want the truth? You can’t handle the truth! ’Cause when you reach over and put your hand into a pile of goo that was your best friend’s face, you’ll know what to do!! Forget it Marge, it’s Chinatown!!!— Homer
Bart: Ahh, action news. The last place an impressionable kid can go for T.V. violence.
Homer: They're both losers. LOSERS!
Jimbo: Nice PJs Simpson. Did your mommy buy 'em for ya?
Bart: Of course she did. Who else would have?
Ralph: Me fail English? That's unpossible!
Lisa: That's not fair. Why is Bart getting a present and I'm getting chewed out?
Homer: Ah, the mysteries of life.
Coach: Tell you what, Simpson. I won't fail you if you join one of those pee-wee teams outside the school.
Lisa: You mean those leagues where parents push their kids into vicious competition to compensate for their own failed dreams of glory?
Coach: Look, I don't need this. I inhaled my favorite whistle this morning.
Wiggum: Yes, we won! We won! We won! Um, unfortunately, since I bet on the other team, uh, we won't be going for pizza.
Homer: Lisa, if the bible has taught us nothing else - and it hasn't - it's that girls should stick to girl sports, such as hot oil wrestling, foxy boxing, and such and such.
Uter: Don't make me run, I'm full of chocolate!
Lisa: Hey Milhouse, knock him down if he's in your way. Jimbo, Jimbo, go for the face! Look, Ralph Wiggum lost his shin-guard. Hack the bone! Hack the bone!
Bart: Lisa, certain differences - rivalries, if you will - have come up between us. At first I thought we could talk it over like civilized people. But instead I just ripped the head off Mr. Honeybunny!
Lisa: Bart, that was your cherished childhood toy.
Bart: Aah, Mr. Honeybunny!
Sherri/Terri: (skipping & chanting) At seven tonight the games begin; Bart versus Lisa, who will win?; Their father's fat and their mother's thin; And Grampa Simpson reeks of gin!
Grampa: Hey!! (sniffs himself) That's Obsession For Men!
Marge: I won't have any aggressive condiment passing in this house.
Marge: Homer, we can't root for one child over the other. How would you like it if the kids played favourites with us?
Bart: Hey mom, look at me mom!
Lisa: Hi mom, over here! Mom!
Homer: Heh heh. Hi kids!
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