Homer: The lottery is the one ray of hope in my otherwise unbearable life! (to Marge) Uh, the lottery and you.
Kent Brockman: Oh, my God! I won! I won! Recapping our day's top story: The winner of today's state lottery is me, Kent Brockman. Can we get a shot of me? There you go. In other news, uh, a tragic mix-up today in Cleveland. Many people killed. Uh, good-bye!
Sanjay: If I don't make it, promise you won't sleep with my wife.
Apu: I promise nothing.
Homer: I've never been so sure of anything in my life! I am going to win this lottery!
Homer: (about Santa's Little Helper) Aw, how come he gets meat and we don't?
Marge: You wouldn't want what he's eating, it's mostly just snouts and entrails.
Homer: Mmmm, snouts.
Veterinarian: This is the part of the job I hate the most. (tosses hamster into trashcan with mini-basketball hoop)
Homer: Hey, you did the best you could.
Veterinarian: I love animals. I spend my life saving them and they can't thank me. Well, the parrots can. Let's see what's wrong with this one.
Bart: Hey, wait a minute. Does this have to do anything with Santa's Little Helper?
Marge: Oh, honey, seven hundred and fifty dollars is a lot of money. We really can't afford this operation.
Bart: You're gonna just let him die?
Marge: I know you're upset.
Bart: Darn right, I'm upset!
Marge: Bart! Watch your language! Oh, you did. Sorry.
Bart: I'm not gonna let our dog die and that's it! (leaves the kitchen and mumbles to himself)
Homer: I want to tell you about the most wonderful place in the world: Doggie Heaven. In Doggie Heaven, there are mountains of bones, and you can't turn around without sniffing another dog's butt! And all the best dogs are there, Old Yeller, and about eight Lassies.
Bart: Is there a Doggie Hell?
Homer: Well... of course, there couldn't be a heaven if there weren't a hell.
Bart: Who's in there?
Homer: Oh, uh... Hitler's dog... and that dog Nixon had, what's his name, um, Chester...
Homer: Yeah! One of the Lassies is in there, too. The mean one! The one who mauled Timmy!
Mr. Burns: Dogs are idiots. If I came into your house and started sniffing at your crotch and slobbering all over your face, what would you say?
Smithers: If you did it, sir?
Homer: I wanna pet him again!
Marge: You can pet the cat.
Homer: The cat? What's the point?
Kent Brockman: Yes, I'm back. Kent Brockman is not the kind of man who would leave a $500,000-a-year job because he won a lottery. I'm a journalist.
Homer: He's got all the money in the world, but there's one thing he can't buy.
Marge: What's that?
Homer: A dinosaur.
Ned Flanders: So, recycling is just our way of giving Mother Earth a great big hug!
Mr. Burns: (sarcastically) Yes, well, it does sound delightful! I can't wait to start pawing through my garbage like some starving raccoon! (whispers to Smithers) Release the hounds. (to Flanders, as Smithers walks away) Well, neighbor, I see you've got your running shoes on. That's a good thing.
(The hounds are set on Flanders, who screams like a girl and flees.)