Mr. Feeny: Madam, if you choose to question my opinions, then you disregard thirty-eight years in the public school system. Where I have borne the responsibility of those opinions for thirty-thousand students. None held in higher regard than Mr. Matthews and Ms. Lawrence.

Prudence: Hello, I am Topanga's Aunt.
Eric: Okay, how's that possible? Because my aunt looks like an elephant.
Alan: That is my sister you're talking about.
Eric: She does, man.

Mr. Feeny: Well, gentlemen. It seems the whole school is talking about it. And if I do say so myself, excellent article. Troubling photographs.

Cory: Gary, this is Veronica. Veronica Wasboyski.

Shawn: Why's everyone looking? What are they staring at?
Cory: Well, Shawn, I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but you're kind of a babe.

Cory: Here, put these on.
Morgan: I don't want to wear boxing mittens. I don't know how they work.
Cory: They're not boxing mittens, they're boxing gloves. And they don't work, you just hit me!

Cory: My history paper and a red pen. Feeny, you fool! ... "Cory, you fool, put down the paper and step away from my walnut credenza."

Alan: I had a dream last night. Skinny little men in brand new rock climbing shoes falling off a mountain screaming at me, "You sold me these, you merchant of death!"

Morgan: (Singing) "And he doesn't like girls because he's afraid of them. Afraid of them. I think he likes boys if you know what I'm saying."
Eric: Okay, this chick is toast.

Cory: One day Topanga's gonna be a mother and I'm gonna be the father. Or the uncle. Or, the way I'm going, the guy down the street with the binoculars.