Cory: I think you'll like my paper. What a major freakoid that Ed Poe must have been.
Mr. Feeny: You have no idea how major a freakoid.

Alan: You had to have a house. Remember the apartment? Remember before the children? Before we were married? Before we knew each other? Remember how happy we were?
*Amy kicks Alan*
Alan: Remember when you know when I was kidding?

Cory: I was thinking. Autumn's here and winter's just around the corner.
Mr. Feeny: That's typically the pattern.

Alan: That's pretty steep, though. Maybe for Christmas.
Cory: Great, a water gun in December. I'll be the little boy spreading pneumonia.

Cory: Well, for a fee I can hack off the rest of that dead stuff.
Mr. Feeny: You stay away from my roses!

Cory: Cool. What's it pay?
Mr. Feeny: Oh, I could go as high as five.
Cory: Five dollars? Get a pulse! Five bucks to paint all those?
Mr. Feeny: Five dollars a piece, Mr. Matthews. That's five times two shutters, times eight windows.
Cory: Five times two, times eight. What's that, like $58?
Mr. Feeny: $58 it is. You are worth every inch of that C+ I gave you in math.
Cory: Thanks, Mr. Feeny. You won't regret it.
Mr. Feeny: Oh, I expect I shall.

Eric: Eerie how she always knows, huh?
Cory: What, do all women have antennas hidden somewhere on their bodies?
Eric: I don't know. None of them will let me look.

Cory: Mom and Dad let you buy that?
Eric: Yeah, they said it's my money and I can buy whatever I want. Except that Buns of Steel video.

Cory: Eric, you know, I'm thinking now you're raking in the big bucks, maybe you'd like to consider this exciting investment opportunity.
Eric: Call my broker. Shearson-leave-me-alone.

Cory: Come on, Mr. Feeny, have some pity. I've been out of work for eleven years.