Bob Ross: [on TV] Little stand of evergreens that lives right in here.
Missy: I didn't know Richard Simmons can paint.
Sheldon: His name's Bob Ross. And he's oddly hypnotic.
Missy: You're gonna paint?
Sheldon: No, I just like watching him. I can't explain it, but his voice and demeanor are comforting, like a hot beverage.
Bob Ross: [on TV] Let's get crazy and, once again, just pull it out, just like we did the other one.
Missy: Yawn.
Bob Ross: [on TV] Barely touch, whisper. Just whisper-light. Let it go. Let it go. no pressure.

Adult Sheldon: The yips are a cruel mistress. But thanks to a magical man with a halo of curls, I was finally able to relax and get out of my own head. [soft voice] Instead of freezing up, I thought about happy integers, fluffy little formulas and a sweet Bessel function that just wants me to do my very best.
Sheldon: Done.
Dr. Linkletter: Great, I can still make my doubles match. Get out.

Missy: I don't know what I'm doing wrong.
Dale: Ah, don't worry about it. It's not your fault.
Missy: It isn't?
Dale: No, I'm the one that let a girl pitch. It's my mistake.
Missy: What? I've won so many games.
Dale: Oh, that was then.
Missy: Why are you being so mean?
Dale: Well, why are you getting so emotional, like women do? Maybe you ought to be a cheerleader.
Missy: You trying to make me mad?
Dale: Is it working?
Missy: Yeah.
Dale: Well, I tell you what, picture my face in the catcher's mitt.