George Sr.: You two share that bed, I'll take this one.
Sheldon: No.
George Jr.: Nuh-uh.
George Sr.: Come on, fellas, I'm the biggest. It makes sense that I get a bed to myself.
Sheldon: No.
George Jr.: Nuh-uh.
George Sr.: We'll flip for it. Georgie, call it.
George Jr.: Heads.
George Sr.: Not your day.
George Jr.: Dang it.
Sheldon: That looked like heads.
George Sr.: Go brush your teeth.

Sheldon: This is a terrible driving game.
George Sr.: Is it roadkill if it's still twitchin'?

Sheldon: Huh, both alive and dead, just like Schrodinger's cat.
George Sr.: I didn't know he had a cat.
Sheldon: You've heard of Schrodinger?
George Sr.: Sure. It's the kid from Charlie Brown who plays the piano. Lucy's got a crush on him.

Sheldon: Fine, the cat's name is Mittens.
George Jr.: Because he has little white feet?
Sheldon: Sure.
George Sr.: So, in this thought experiment, do you think Mittens is dead or alive?
Sheldon: There's no way of saying until you open the box.
George Jr.: Oh, come on.
Sheldon: Optimistically, I would choose to believe he's alive.
George Jr.: Yes!
George Sr.: Oh, thank goodness.

Mary: You're a good dad.
George Sr.: If I don't kill one of them before Sunday, I'm a good dad.

George Sr.: So, Sheldon, me and Georgie are gonna take a little road trip this weekend, see the shuttle launch.
George Jr.: Looks like I don't get a vote in this.
George Sr.: Oh, good, you're catching on.

Mary: Okay, let's talk about food.
George Sr.: No need to. He likes his meat cooked to at least 165 degrees, except for chicken which is 180. The different foods can't touch each other on the plate. Ketchup and mustard must come out of a packet. No bottles.
Mary: What about his issues with spaghetti?
George Sr.: That's a trick question. He likes spaghetti.

Mary: What's going on?
George Sr.: I can't find Sheldon.
Mary: What do you mean, you can't find him?
George Sr.: I mean I don't know where he is.
Mary: Well, he's got to be somewhere.
George Sr.: Maybe he got that time machine to work.

Sheldon: There is the launching of the space shuttle this weekend.
George Sr.: Space shuttle? Don't they do those out of Florida?
Sheldon: Yes. Cape Canaveral.
George Sr.: Sheldon, that's-that's like a 12, 15 hour drive.
Sheldon: I understand. Never mind.
George Sr.: You know what? Let's do it. It'll be fun. The three Cooper boys on a little adventure. Sound good?
Sheldon: Sounds good.

George Sr.: I thought you didn't like taking the Lord's name in vain?
Mary: Oh, shut up.
George Sr.: It's been a while, huh?
Mary: Don't blame me. You're the one who had a heart attack.
George Sr.: Mm, the doctor did say I needed to get more exercise.
Mary: I think he meant walks around the block.
George Sr.: No, he winked at me, and did this little rotation with his hips.

George Sr.: Hey, we got any plans this weekend?
Mary: I thought maybe we could get started on the vegetable garden, and then, of course, church on Sunday.
George Sr.: Yeah, that does sound fun, but what if, instead, I was to go up to Bethy Creek with Georgie and do some fishing?
Mary: How long you been waiting to spring that on me?
George Sr.: Well, not till I was done rotating my hips.
Mary: You're awful.

Mary: Who says you have to take him fishing? Find something else to do with him. Something he'd like.
George Sr.: What are we gonna do? Spend the weekend sitting around, thinking?

Mary: George, you have to make an effort. Young boys who don't spend time with their daddies grow up to be oddballs.
George Sr.: Honey, I hate to tell you, but that ball is already pretty odd.

George Sr.: Hey. I get it. I have a daughter. I wouldn't want her bringing home someone like that. But I've come a hell of a long way since then.
Meemaw: Okay, you're right. George, I'm sorry.
George Sr.: That means more to me than any recipe. Come here.

George Sr.: Here we go, maiden voyage. Mmm, mmm. Hot damn.

Butcher: Can I help you?
George Sr.: Matter of fact, you can. You pull them all together I need 12 pounds of prime Angus with a medium deckle, ideally slaughtered in the spring, no later than mid-June.

George Sr.: Could you grind my root for me? I-I'm-a I'm-a rub it on brisket.

George Sr.: Connie, you evil bitch!

George Sr.: I don't want this woman in my house anymore.
Mary: She is my mother.
George Sr.: She is the devil.

Meemaw: Hey.
George Sr.: What do you want?
Meemaw: Don't be that way. I brought you a cold one.
George Sr.: Thanks. I still don't like you.