Mary: Sheldon Lee Cooper, if you don't finish that pork chop, I swear I will chew it up and spit it in your mouth like a mama bird.
Missy: Do it, Mom. Do it.

Sheldon: Regardless, I'm not interested in making any more friends.
Mary: Oh, I don't think that's how you really feel.
Sheldon: It is. From now on, it's a hermit's life for me.
Mary: I bet, when you grow up, you will be surrounded by lots of smart, wonderful friends.
Sheldon: I can't see that happening.

Sheldon: Mom, when should I be expecting my testicles?
Woman: [turns around] What is wrong with him?
Mary: Nothing is wrong with him. Now turn around before I knock your lights out.
Sheldon: Hello.

Mary: All right, Tam. I decided I was gonna make you a real Texas dinner. Barbecued chicken and brisket.
Tam: Thank you.
Mary: Well, I figured you were probably tired of stuff wiggling around on your plate.

Adult Sheldon: Just like that, I overcame my fear of choking. All that was left was my fear of dogs, birds, insects, germs, hugging, button fly pants, rivers, ponds, lakes, oceans, estuaries, corduroy, root vegetables, squeaky balloons, tinted windows, take a penny, leave a penny, fireworks, potbelly stoves, dust bunnies, that fuzz on peaches.

George Sr.: And Sheldon's fine. You know what he's like. If someone took him, I'm sure they'll bring him right back.

George Sr.: If we take him to a shrink, it feels like we're admitting something's wrong with him.
Mary: He hasn't had solid food in five weeks.
Meemaw: Well, if there is something wrong with him, it ain't constipation.