Mr. Feeny: Mr. Matthews, what are you doing?
Eric: I just put my books away.
Mr. Feeny: I thought I saw you stuff your brother into your locker.
Eric: Now why would I wanna go do something like that?
Mr. Feeny: I don't know, but I clearly saw a curly haired boy enter your locker.
Eric: Why would I want a curly haired boy in my locker?
Mr. Feeny: Again, I don't know!

Mr. Feeny: You can't tell Cory and Topanga what to do. I've been trying to do that since the first grade. I remember when I tried to separate their desks. She kicked me, he bit me and some little punk kept saying "Leave 'em alone. They should get married."

Mr. Feeny: Well, I'm sure Shawn's father - frightening man, isn't he? I'm sure he'll be able to find his way back home. After all, if a pigeon can do it ...

Mr. Feeny: You are not calling a duck!

Mr. Feeny: I will be watching you every moment of your high school career. Which, in your case, could be decades.

Eric: If you'll excuse me, I've got cera-mix.
Mr. Turner: You mean ceramics?
Eric: Yeah, the ashtray class.
Mr. Feeny: (To the other teachers) You know what scares me?
Mr. Williams: What?
Mr. Feeny: He'll end up making more money than any of us.

Mr. Feeny: Well, Shawn marrying Topanga. This is weird. On the other hand, who would have thought that as principal I could perform marriages?

Eric: You're still moving away? Ah, for the love of Mike, stop with the mind games, man.
Mr. Feeny: You know this is the reason I can't sell my house.

Mr. Feeny: Mr. Turner, we are not in high school. ... Well, actually we are. But we're teachers, you fool.

Shawn: How are we supposed to get home?
Mr. Feeny: Wait 'til it's dark. Then run, very quickly.