George: Be cool.
Georgie: I'm cool. You be cool.
[George Sr. fidgeting in his leather chair, making a lot of noise, accidentally knocks something over.]
Georgie: Real cool.

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

Georgie: Maybe you should go across the street and apologize.
George: I can't do that.
Georgie: Why not?
George: 'Cause if I do, it sets a bad precedent.
Georgie: What's Nixon got to do with it?
George: What?
Georgie: You said "bad president," like Nixon. You know, this guy.

Georgie: Mornin'.
Mary: Mornin'.
Georgie: I slept in the nude last night. Felt every little breeze.
[Sheldon slides his food away]
Mary: Thank you for sharing that.
Georgie: You're welcome.

Georgie: And I wasn't eavesdropping.
George: Don't worry about it.
Georgie: I just don't see why I got grounded.
George: What are you complaining about? You didn't want to go to church picnic anyway.
Georgie: I like complaining. I'm good at it.

Adult Sheldon: The average American consumes 55 pounds of beef per year. And then there's Texas, where we can knock that off in a couple of months. Maybe faster, if we're talking about smoked brisket. Curiously, the one cut of beef that Texans and Jews agree upon.

Adult Sheldon: Finally, the cooking began. 14 hours of cooking. And basting. And spritzing. And tending to the fire.
George: Oh. Rest, my darling. Rest.