Lisa: Here's a good job at the fireworks factory.
Homer: Those perfectionists, forget it.
Lisa: How about this, a supervising technician at the toxic waste dump.
Homer: I'm no supervising technician, I'm a technical supervisor.
Homer (addressing a crowd): Your lives are in the hands of men no smarter than you or I, many of them incompetent boobs. I know this because I worked alongside them, gone bowling with them, watched them pass me over for promotions time and again. And I say... This stinks!
Homer: Friends, you have come to depend on me as your safety watchdog. So you won't scrape yourself, or stub your toes, or blow yourselves up. But you can't depend on me all your life. You have to learn that there's a little Homer Simpson in all of us, and I'm going to have to live without your respect and awe.
Homer: I won't be in for the rest of the week. ... I told you! My baby beat me up! ... No it is not the worst excuse you've ever heard.
Homer: If something goes wrong at the plant, blame the guy who can't speak English.
Homer: Don't worry, Marge. America's health care system is second only to Japan, Canada, Sweden, Great Britain, well, all of Europe, but you can thank your lucky stars we don't live in Paraguay!
Homer: I hope I didn't brain my damage.
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