George Sr.: IRS? This can't be good.
Sheldon: Sure it can.
George Sr.: When is the IRS ever good?
Sheldon: Perhaps they're writing to congratulate me on filing such a beautiful tax return.

Mary: Let's say grace.
Sheldon: Hang on, safety first. [puts mittens on]
George Jr.: When are you gonna get over that?
Sheldon: I would think recent events would make you value protection.
Mary: Enough.

Ms. MacElroy: Now, can anyone tell me why Melville shifts the narrative voice from Ishmael to Ahab? [Ms. MacElroy waits for somebody else to raise their hand] Sheldon.
Sheldon: I have a tummyache. I'd like to see the nurse.
Derek: A "tummyache"?
Sheldon: Yes, Derek, I have a tummy and it aches. Ergo, tummyache.
Derek: Ergo?
Sheldon: It's Latin, Derek.
Ms. MacElroy: Go to the nurse.
Sheldon: And to answer your question, the shifting point of view grants the reader a broader perspective of events than typically allowed by first-person narration.
Ms. MacElroy: Where were we?
Sheldon: And "ergo" is Latin for "hence," Derek.

Missy: What's it like to not believe in God?
Sheldon: It's great. Big fan.
Missy: Are you ever afraid you're wrong?
Sheldon: About religion? Never. About other things? Also never.

George Sr.: Should we get started?
Malcolm Green: Yes.
Adult Sheldon: I realize some people may find the ins and outs of tax law a little tedious, so allow me to spice this story up. Instead of an audit, imagine this is a showdown between two warriors in the most brutal and exciting form of combat there is... chess. Am I the only one who just got chills?
[fantasy:]
Malcolm Green: Let's start with the business deductions from Schedule A on the tax return dated 1989.
Adult Sheldon: I know, bold opening move. Don't worry, I came to play.
Sheldon: Happy to. I've got those receipts right here. Dated, highlighted... and itemized.
Adult Sheldon: Told you. For the next three hours, we battled it out. Two mighty brains locked in mortal tax code combat.
Malcolm Green: Justify this expense.
Sheldon: Our AGI was less than $50,000.
Malcolm Green: Improper classification.
Sheldon: Rolled over from the previous fiscal year.
Malcolm Green: The receipt has barbecue sauce on it.
Sheldon: Dad.
George Sr.: Sorry.

Meemaw: I'll have the rib eye, medium rare.
Waiter: And for you?
Dale: Uh, just the house salad, please.
Waiter: Very good.
Meemaw: House salad? You watching your figure?
Dale: I have a physical tomorrow.
Meemaw: Oh, so your plan is to start eating healthy now?
Dale: Can't hurt.
Meemaw: It ain't gonna undo years of red meat and beer.
Dale: I'm not trying to undo it, I'm just trying to hide it under some lettuce.

Dale: Well, you're not a fan of doctors, huh?
Meemaw: They never have good news. They just want to find something wrong.
Dale: It's kind of their job.
Meemaw: If something's wrong with me, I don't want to know about it.
Dale: That's dumb.
Meemaw: No, it's not. If I'm gonna drop dead, I'd rather do it quick and leave lookin' good.