Marge: I haven't been in a play since high school, and I thought it would be a good chance to meet some other adults.
Homer: Sounds interesting.
Marge: You know, I spend all day alone with Maggie, and sometimes it's like I don't even exist.
Homer: Sounds interesting.
Llewellyn Sinclair: Hello! I am Llewellyn Sinclair. I've directed three plays in my career and I've had three heart attacks. That's how much I care, I'm planning for a fourth.
Llewellyn Sinclair: All right, all of you who auditioned for the role of Stanley, take off your shirts. Take them off!
(Several men remove their shirts, among them Ned Flanders, Jasper and Otto)
Llewellyn Sinclair: Forget it. No way. Try joining a gym. ACK! What is that?
(Otto's chest reveals a gruesome skull tattoo)
Otto: Pretty gnarly man, huh?
Ms. Sinclair: Mrs. Simpson, do you know what a baby is saying when she reaches for her bottle?
Marge:....Ba-ba?
Ms. Sinclair: She's saying "I am a leech".
Marge: Maybe I should've a nice calligraphy class.
Chief Wiggum: Oh, forget about it. That Mr. Takahashi's a lunatic!
Lisa: Wow! My mother the actress. I feel like Lucie Arnaz-Luckinbill.
Bart: Are there any jive-Talking Robots in this play?
Marge: Um, I don't think so.
Homer: Bart, don't ask stupid questions...Is there any frontal nudity?
Marge: No, Homer!
Lionel Hutz: Lionel Hutz, Attorney at Law. I'm filing a class-action suit against the director on behalf of everyone who was cut from the play. I also play Mitch!
Ms. Sinclair: Mrs. Simpson, I don't like to toot my own horn, but we're the only day-care in town that is not currently under investigation by the state.
Llewellyn Sinclair: [to Homer on the phone] Stop bothering my Blanche!
Marge: I just don't see why Blanche should shove a broken bottle in Stanley's face. Couldn't she just take his abuse with gentle good humor?
Marge: (in a southern accent) The play's tomorrow night. I've got to stay in charactah.
Lisa: (in a southern accent) Hey Mom, would it help if I talked lack this tew?
Marge: (in a southern accent) It maght.
Bart: (in a cockney accent) En I'll talk like 'is. Bob's ya uncle mate.
Marge: (in a southern accent) That really doesn't help, Baaht.
Bart: (in a cockney accent) Can I slog off school tomorra. Gotta pain in me gulliva!
Homer: I'm livin' in a cuckoo clock!
Homer: What about dessert?
Marge: For God's sakes, you can pull the lid off your own can of pudding!
Homer: Fine! I will!
Marge: I'm sure you won't enjoy it. There's nothing about bowling in the play. Oh wait, there is.
Homer: Probably not much of it.
Homer: I can't fake an interest in this, and I'm an expert at faking an interest in your kooky projects.
Marge: What kooky projects?
Homer: You know, the painting class, the first aid course, the whole Lamaze thing.
Homer: It really got to me how that lady, uh... You know which one I mean. You played her.
