Emily: All right, class, let's take a look at what we've been working on for the last two weeks.
Who would like to be first? [Mary raises her hand] Mary. [class groans]
Mary: I call this painting "Spirits of Spring." When I was growing up in Indiana and all the other kids would exclude me from their playing, I'd sit in my yard and anxiously await the tiny crocuses to pop their happy heads out from their winter sleep.
Dick: Oh! That's a beautiful story.
Mary: Oh!
Dick: It's a lousy painting, but it is a beautiful story.

Bug: Oh, that? It's just a doodle.
Dick: A doodle? Why, this is a picture of me with antlers and something coming out of my buttocks.
Pitman: It's a tail. [off Bug's look] Well, it is.
Dick: That's brilliant! The lines, the contours, the way you've picked up the essence of my rugged good looks.
Bug: It's just a doodle.
Dick: Just a doodle? And Alan Thicke is just an actor. [bell rings] Tomorrow I want everyone to bring in three sharpened pencils, and Bug will teach us all how to doodle.

Sally: [on the phone] I've tasted your butter cookies, Mrs. Stevenson, and, yes, I can believe it's not butter. Use a butter substitute, and you'll find yourself saying, "I can't believe I was bounced out of this bake sale right onto my ass." Get with the program.

Harry: Dick, are you mad at me?
Dick: No.
Harry: Lately you get this weird grin, like you're hiding something. It's not about art class, is it?
Dick: Art class? Why, no, I don't care about art. Let's not forget what one of the great thinkers of the 20th century said, "Art is no damn good."
Harry: What great thinker said that?
Dick: Jesse Helms.

Mary: Oh, yes. Well, look at the "Mona Lisa." She never picked up a paintbrush, and yet she inspired the most famous painting in the world.
Dick: So it's like Whistler and his mother.
Mary: Exactly.
Dick: Van Gogh and his potato eaters.
Mary: Yes.
Dick: Michelangelo and his, uh... ceiling full of naked guys trying to touch fingers.
Mary: More or less.
Dick: Inspiration. Yes. Yes! Thank you! Thank you! That little story really helped me. Thank you!
Mary: Sure.
Dick: Oh, and by the way, I love your stubby little legs.

Mary: Harry, were your parents artistic?
Harry: Hmm. Not really. My mother was a cold receptacle, and my father was just a machine.
Mary: Well, we all have our baggage. But don't forget, out of suffering comes creativity. You can't spell "painting" without "pain."
Harry: Mmm or "ting."

Harry: Oh, Dick, you came.
Mary: Are you going to paint?
Dick: Even better. I now accept the fact that I do not have artistic talent, like you, like Harry. I know now that I will never be able to be a part of a class like this, but Dr. Albright has made me see the joy that I can take in inspiring other people. No, I will never be an artist, but I can make a great subject. [removes coat] Prepare to meet your muse!
Harry: Oh, great I'm gonna need more pink.

Dick: You know, I've discovered that here on Earth every human has his own talents and his own flaws. The smart ones have learned to use their talents, but the happy ones have learned to accept their flaws. I know I've accepted mine.
Tommy: Permission to mention your receding hairline, sir?
Dick: Permission denied.

Dick: Look at this Garfield. [speaks French] [all laugh]
Tommy: I don't care what language you speak, that cat's funny.

Sally: This is the bake sale committee, right?
Woman: Yes. I don't believe I've seen you before.
Sally: I don't believe you're blond.