Mary: Who said you could go to Fort Davis?
Sheldon: President Hagemeyer.
Mary: Well, I didn't say you could go.
Sheldon: It's fine. I'll be with Dr. Sturgis and Dr. Linkletter.
Mary: For how long?
Sheldon: Three days.
Mary: And they're okay with this?
Sheldon: Why wouldn't they be?
Mary: No reason.

Pastor Jeff: And now George's loving wife Mary would like to say a few words. Mary.
Mary: Thank you, Pastor Jeff. Um... [clears throat] I met George in high school. Well, I was in high school. He was an older man with a motorcycle. [light laughter] I'd like to tell you he caught my eye, but actually it was the motorcycle. [laughter] [voice breaking] I'm sorry, I can't... do this. I am... so angry. [sighs] George and I had our ups and downs, but we were finally in such a good place, and then he... left. [crying] He left all of us. I- How could you do that? [Meemaw stands up] I am so mad at him. I'm mad at God, I'm mad at myself for not trying harder while he was here. [Meemaw goes up to Mary] This wasn't supposed to happen. [Mary sobs] [Meemaw hugs Mary] [Georgie hugs a crying Missy]

Sheldon: Mom, when should I be expecting my testicles?
Woman: [turns around] What is wrong with him?
Mary: Nothing is wrong with him. Now turn around before I knock your lights out.
Sheldon: Hello.

Sheldon: Regardless, I'm not interested in making any more friends.
Mary: Oh, I don't think that's how you really feel.
Sheldon: It is. From now on, it's a hermit's life for me.
Mary: I bet, when you grow up, you will be surrounded by lots of smart, wonderful friends.
Sheldon: I can't see that happening.

Dr. John Sturgis: Societal norms are different on road trips. Normally, I don't eat junk food, but here, it's tradition. I'm not even sure what a chicharron is.
Sheldon: It's the deep-fried skin of a pig.
Dr. John Sturgis: That seems like something they should say on the bag.

Pat: Look, you seem like nice folk, but Yankees ain't popular around here. I suggest you be on your way.
Dr. Linkletter: Sorry to have troubled you. Let's go.
Sheldon: Excuse me. My colleagues may be from the North, but for your information, I'm a Texan, born and bred. I know that real chili has no beans, and when my meemaw says, "Bless your heart," she means something very different. Now, my friend here is in need of help, and since our state motto is literally "friendship," may he please use your phone?
Pat: Well, dang. [puts the phone on the bar]
Dr. John Sturgis: And could I trouble you for a yellow pages?
Dr. Linkletter: Oh, boy.

Adult Sheldon: After a quick burial behind the bar, we were back on the road. Dr. Sturgis tried to find some appropriate music for a proper send-off. Three Christian talk shows and a whole lot of static later, he settled on what he declared the Dixieland jazz of West Texas. ["El Son de la Negra / Guadalajara" playing] Mariachi.
Dr. John Sturgis: Vaya con dios, armadillo. Vaya con dios.