George Jr.: I'm bored.
Missy: Me, too.
Meemaw: Hey. Someday somebody's gonna write a book about Sheldon. Don't you want there to be a chapter about how loving and supportive you two were?
George Jr.: Doesn't matter. I ain't reading it.

George Jr.: What are you doing?
George Sr.: Separating the whites from the colors.
George Jr.: Whoa, that's racist.

George Jr.: I think the saddest part about it is just how sad it is.

George Jr.: So, Vietnam, like in Rambo.
Tam: Yes.
George Jr.: That's a cool movie.
Tam: Yes.
George Jr.: Are you in it?
Tam: No.

George Sr.: Damn it. I've had enough of this. Sheldon, get up.
Sheldon: What's the point?
George Sr.: We're going to Houston.
Sheldon: Really?
George Sr.: Yeah. You and me are gonna give those space monkeys a little talkin' to.
Adult Sheldon: I often found my father to be a strange and puzzling man, but at that moment, I never loved him more.

Adult Sheldon: People often wonder why I chose to pursue a career in theoretical physics. I usually respond by saying I wanted to unravel the inner workings of the universe. But the real answer was I wanted to prove this nincompoop wrong.

George Jr.: Are you dyin'?
Meemaw: We're all dyin', honey. From the second we're born, it's just a slip and slide into the darkness.
George Jr.: Unless you get bit by a vampire.
Meemaw: Well, now that goes without saying.