Topanga: If we're going to eliminate the cap rule, can we also discard the dress code in its entirety?
Cory: Why? You're not thinking about showing up, like, naked tomorrow are you?
Topanga: No, although I find nothing shameful about nudity. I was thinking about wearing garments from cultures more in tune with a goddess, Asarte perhaps.
Cory: Yeah, fine as long as you're covered up.

Minkus: People, people, people. Are we going to do our social studies today?
Shawn: Minkus, Minkus, Minkus. Shut up.

Cory: Let's start with the roll call. Lawrence, Topanga.
Topanga: I'm channeling. I will only answer to the name *demonic sound*.
Cory: Okay. Present but not all here.

Mr. Feeny: That's all right, Mr. Matthews. In time one learns to live with the lack of respect, the unruly students, the miniscule pay. ... Rolaid?

Morgan: Come on, it's getting cold.
Amy: It's ice cream.
Morgan: Come on, it's getting warm.

Cory: Oh, come on, Minkus. Don't tell me you want to sit on a yoghurt cushion?

Minkus: I happen to think Mr. Feeny is one of the top guys in teaching and he earns $40,000.
Shawn: Whoa, that stinks.
Minkus: Finally, something we both agree on.
Cory: Yeah.
Shawn: Feeny ain't worth that kind of money.

Cory: Hey, where's Mr. Feeny? I mean George.
Mr. Feeny: Hey, dude. Sorry I'm late. I was chilling with my homies.

Cory: Thirty-five hours a week in here with you. Major homework every night. It never stops, Mr. Feeny. And you want to know what I get for all that? Five measly bucks a week. You probably make that in an hour.
Mr. Feeny: Yes, I do. That's why I can afford that Ferrari in my driveway.
Cory: You don't drive a Ferrari.
Mr. Feeny: Oh, right. It's a Gremlin.

Mr. Feeny: Good morning, Mr. Matthews. I trust you did the homework.
Cory: I did, sir, but my -
Mr. Feeny: Little sister ate it. You are so predictable.