Meemaw: Listen, why don't you let me talk to Brenda, and just smooth things out?
Mary: Why do you think she'll listen to you?
Meemaw: Because people like me more than you.
Mary: People like me.
Meemaw: I didn't say they don't, they just like me more.

Mary: Mom, can you make the salad?
Meemaw: Sure.
George: Hey, don't put in any of those little tomatoes.
Meemaw: Hey, I don't tell you how to impersonate a lump of clay. You don't tell me how to make a salad.

Meemaw: I know this is hard for everyone. It's certainly hard for me. But no one... is more upset with George's passing than the Lone Star Beer company. That flag is at half-mast. [laughter] On the other hand, there's a lot of cows out there that are breathing a sigh of relief. As the king of brisket has put down his fork and ridden off into the sunset. [laughter] And, uh, I'll tell you something...
Missy: Why are they laughing at Dad?
Georgie: 'Cause they love him.
Meemaw: ...that I always kind of kept to myself, but... I wasn't always a big supporter of George and Mary being an item. As a matter of fact, whenever he came to visit, I would always invite Mary's slutty friend Janice over, hoping to catch his interest. [laughter] Hey, Janice. Thanks for coming. You're a doll. [Dale looks back] Anyway... George only had eyes for Mary. And of course brisket. [laughter] And over the years, he surely earned my respect. He was a good man. [voice breaking] And I will always be proud... to call him my son.

Sheldon: Meemaw? I assume you've read the Surgeon General's report on the dangers of smoking?
Meemaw: I'm gonna wait till they turn it into a movie.

Billy Sparks: Hello.
Herschel Sparks: Hey.
George: Hey, Billy.
Billy Sparks: Was this fence window always here?
Herschel Sparks: No, son, that's a new fence window.
Billy Sparks: Anybody else getting dizzy?

Sheldon: How do we love our neighbors when our moms hate each other?
Billy Sparks: Who does your mom hate?
Sheldon: Your mom.
Billy Sparks: Hey, my mom hates your mom. Small world.

Brenda Sparks: Well, I'm sorry, but you shouldn't be inferring there's something wrong with my Billy.
Meemaw: Darlin', there's no inferring. I've seen the boy sitting in the dirt eating his own belly button lint.