Meemaw: How's that salad?
Dale: It sucks. How's your steak?
Meemaw: You know how they overcook it sometimes so it's a little bit dry?
Dale: Uh-huh.
Meemaw: Not this time. It's so good.
Dale: You know what else is good? This radish.
Meemaw: Would you like some steak?
Dale: Yes.
Meemaw: Then you probably should've ordered some. It's delicious.
Dale: You are not a very nice lady.
Meemaw: [softly] Mmm.

Sheldon: Do people know about this?
Meemaw: Sheldon, what's on a person's face is not always what's in their heart.
Sheldon: Well, this changes everything. How do you know who to trust?
Meemaw: You don't. That's what makes life interesting.

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

George Sr.: You don't always win in life, he needs to learn that.
Mary: I know, but these are big feelings for a little boy.
George Sr.: They're feelings everybody has. It's part of growing up.
Mary: I guess.
Sheldon: Poodle poop!
Meemaw: Okay. Somebody's got to teach this kid to swear, it's embarrassing.

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.

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.

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.