Mr. Feeny: A candy bar. Doesn't your mother feed you a proper breakfast?
Cory: Oh, yeah, she does. Now I gotta get the taste of this Shredded Wheat out of my mouth.

Mr. Feeny: How blissful it must be for you to have lived so little and yet already reached your conclusions about the greatest wonder of the universe.

Mr. Feeny: You know you're not doing your body any favors by loading up on junk like that.
Cory: Oh, thanks, Mr. Feeny. And please enjoy that high vitamin, astronaut drink you're sucking down.

Mr. Feeny: The tragedy here, Mr. Matthews, is not about a dumb girl or the boy who kills himself because of her. It's about the all consuming power of love and the inevitability of its influence on each of our lives.
Cory: Are you aware that I'm only eleven years old?

Mr. Feeny: Mr. Matthews, I spend thirty-five to forty-five hours a week dealing with the perceived problems of whiny little people like yourself. Now this is my lunch period. My respite from the fray. I spend four hours with you every morning and three hours with you every afternoon. Now, for God's sake, get out of my face.

Amy: Okay, mister. Drop my son's underwear.
Cory: Mom, it's me.
Amy: How do I know it's you?
Cory: Who else would want my underwear?

Cory: I dumped my family and my family dumped me. It was mutual. They're keeping the house.

Cory: Mom, you were always very cordial to me when I lived here.

Mr. Feeny: Well, you shrewd little observer of the human condition.

Mr. Feeny: There's no gravity in space, Mr. Matthews. Therefore, astronauts suck up. Learn from them.