Mary: I'm real glad you've been getting out again.
Meemaw: Me, too. We had a nice dinner, took a walk. He's a divorcee, you know.
Mary: I didn't.
Meemaw: It's not a big deal for those people. If they're not a lawyer, they're related to one.

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.

Georgie: Hey, now that you're treating him like an adult, can I have his allowance?
George: That allowance is for chores, which you already don't do.
Georgie: Come on. We all know I'm your favorite.
Meemaw: You're not even his third favorite.

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.

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

George: 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.

Missy: Meemaw, are you gonna have any more babies?
Meemaw: Good Lord, no!
Georgie: She's too old to have any more babies.
Meemaw: Don't have to have 'em. You live long enough, your hair and your teeth start falling out, you start wetting the bed, you get to be one.
Georgie: [laughs] That's funny. We're gonna have to put a diaper on you.
Meemaw: You won't be laughing when you're doing it. I might be.