Otto: Francis, you have inspired me to new heights. See how I have captured the confident power of your torso, the sheer arrogance of your ass.

[Reese is eating a jalapeno pepper as Malcolm reads the Guinness Book of World Records]
Reese: [groans] How many more for the record?
Malcolm: Two more tubs should do it. [to camera] There really isn't a category for eating jalapenos, but I think he's probably suffered enough. I'm going to tell him in a minute.
[cut to Malcolm dumping another bag of ice in Reese's bath:]
Reese: [whimpers]
Malcolm: [to camera] I'm so close to telling him, honest.
[cut to Reese running into a wall:]
Reese: [yells] Ninty-seven.
Malcolm: [to camera] Really, I'm going to tell him.
Reese: [yells]

Malcolm: Anything I want to do, they don't understand. And if they do understand, they just make fun of it. But why should I expect them to be any different than the rest of the world? Let's face it, everyone on this planet is a brain-dead, butt-scratching half-wit.
Stevie: Bite... us.

Hal: It's so nice to have the kids out of the- Dewey! What are you doing?!
Dewey: Painting the wall.
Lois: What is the matter with you? Why on earth would you do this?
Dewey: The baby told me to.
Lois: The ba-? What, this baby?
Dewey: It chose the color, too. I would have gone with more of an earth tone.

Hal: Listen, son, I know you're worried about the baby coming, but you don't have to be. Yes, you're not going to be the youngest anymore, and it is true the baby will get all of our attention for quite a while, and you will have to do a lot more work around the house, and probably have to share the bathroom-
Lois: What your father's trying to say is, there is no reason for you to be acting out like this. Now get this mess cleaned up. And the baby is not talking to you.
Dewey: [sighs] It said you'd say that.

Malcolm: Draw.
Leonard: One more.
Stevie: No! It's been... four... hours!
Malcolm: All right, all right. God.
Leonard: Who designed these damn cement benches anyway? [walks off] Probably some stupid civil servant never made it through design class. Now he takes his frustrations out on the asses of the general public.
Malcolm: What the hell is with that guy? [walks off] He is so annoying. First it's too warm, then it's too cool, then the pigeons are walking funny. He didn't shut up for one second. I mean, give it a try, stop complaining. No, you want to know the worst thing about him? He kept picking at his...

Reese: Are you crazy?
Dewey: It wasn't my idea. The baby told me to.
Reese: Wait a minute. Mom's baby? You think Mom's baby talks to you?
Dewey: Yes! It's telling me to do all these crazy things.
Reese: Let me give you a little advice. You've got to ignore the voices. They are not on your side, and you never tell anyone about them, especially your teachers. They get panicky for no reason. You understand?
Dewey: I think so.
Reese: Attaboy. You're going to be okay. [strokes Dewey's hair then pushes him down and punches him]

Lois: You get in that house right now, mister! The baby did not tell you to drive the car!
Dewey: Well, it didn't exactly use the word "car." It called it a "go machine," but that's what it meant.

Malcolm: Mom, Dad, can we drive out to the country this Saturday to see the meteor shower? We only have to go, like, 25 miles to get a good view. It starts around 2:00 a.m.
Hal: How's that again, son?
Malcolm: The meteor shower. They say it's going to be the best one in a hundred years.
Reese: Sounds science-y. No, thanks.
Hal: Come on, Reese, a meteor shower. Fireballs zooming around the air, smashing into the ground right in front of you. [imitates explosion]
Malcolm: That's not what happens.
Dewey: Can we ride one?
Malcolm: No! It's 60 miles up, but it's beautiful and interesting anyway!
Lois: Look, if Malcolm needs to do this for some school assignment, then we're going to do it.
Malcolm: It's not for school.
Lois: Then forget it. We're not getting up at 2:00 a.m. just to look at stars.

Leonard: How could you possibly think that the Nimzovich defense would work against me? You tried it two games ago, and I slaughtered you. You tried it four games ago, and I slaughtered you. Seriously, how do you find your way home at night? [his opponent gets up and walks away] What? Where- Where you going? What? Oh, okay! Who wants to play? Eddie, come on. I'll tell you what. I'll hit myself in the head with a rock. I'll even it out. No? Chubbo? You can eat with one hand, play with the other. Oh, I can't believe this. You're all cowards. Hey, funny-looking kid, you want to learn how to play chess?
Malcolm: No, thanks.
Leonard: Come on. Look, it's not that hard. See, this one looks like a pretty little horsey.
Malcolm: I know what a knight is. I also know how to counter a Nimzovich defense without leaving my queen's bishop wide open. Your whole left flank was Swiss cheese. [starts walking away]
Leonard: Hey, junior champion. Read your Kasparov. The second you go after my bishop, you can kiss your rook and two pawns bye-bye! Oh, okay, I get it. You're scared to play me!
Malcolm: Yeah, I'm really scared of some troll in the park beating me at chess.
Leonard: Evidently, you are!
Malcolm: Now you're confusing fear with pity. Fear triggers a fight or flight response while pity allows me to turn my back and walk away with a sadness for your misery!
Leonard: I would've kicked your ass.
Malcolm: All right, that's it. [runs back]
Stevie: Couldn't see... that coming.