Malcolm: Dad? I made coffee. You want some?
Hal: Oh, hi. I was just singing. Always have a song in your heart, son. Thanks. [sighs] You know what the worst thing is? I have always hated that job. I wanted to quit ten years ago when they started deducting for sick days. I wanted to quit a year ago when they started making us vacuum out our own cubicles. If I'd have done that, they would have found another patsy and I wouldn't have been in this mess. They should have just fired me. I mean, I was a terrible employee. I never read a memo, I came in late, I blew off Fridays. What the hell is wrong with those people? Just promise me that you'll learn from my mistakes. Don't ever settle, Malcolm.
Malcolm: I won't.
Hal: I'm going to go make love to your mother one last time.
Malcolm: [to camera] I probably wasn't going to sleep tonight anyway.

Police Officer: [over bullhorn] You're not alone. We've called every available police officer in the Tri-County area. Are you sure you don't need any equipment? We've got some needle-nose pliers.
Hal: No! Stay away! [calmly] Everyone has to stay away! This thing is picking up a lot of vibrations right now. I said get back. Do you have a death wish, Officer?
Lt. Sortino: I'm Lieutenant Sortino with the bomb squad. I'm here to help. What's your name?
Hal: There's no time for introductions. We've got a level five explosive with a gravity timer and a percussion fuse.
Lt. Sortino: What bomb squad did you say you were with?
Hal: Millbrook. I'm off duty. Came by to return a library book. You've got a better selection here. And they charge 50 cents a day back home. Now, I know the fines help pay for the place, but that's really a very small part of the budget. Now, if we are finished playing 20 questions, I've got lives to save.
Lt. Sortino: Since you guys seem more up to date in Millbrook, I'm just going to go call your supervisor, see if he can send some backup.
Hal: Hoo-hoo! Sure. If you can find him. [mimes drinking] Okay, I'm going to try to detach the coaxial... Oh, no! I cut the wrong wire! It's gonna blow! [dives on the backpack] Tell my wife I love her! Five! Four! Three! Two! One!
[As the gathered police officers and fire fighters flinch and look away, Hal disappears with the backpack]

Malcolm: Can I have the potatoes?
Hal: You can have anything you want, son, if you're willing to work for it. Just reach for the stars and never let go. I should have told you that a long time ago. And when you write an angry letter, hold onto it for a day. You might not feel the same in the morning. And never invest in a friend's restaurant. Never. You know what? I'm not hungry. Come on, Dewey, let's go teach you how to shave.
Dewey: Great!
Hal: When you tip a valet, always fold your dollar up real tight. That way, by the time he sees what he's got, you're down the block.

Francis: Malcolm, we have to talk. We've been avoiding this, but it's time to face the facts. We need you to forge Dad's signature on this document declaring Mom mentally incompetent. That way, when Dad goes to jail, you can get emancipated and I'll take custody of Dewey and Jamie.
Dewey: It's funny. I always figured Mom for jail and Dad for the loony bin. Life, huh?

Dennis: Now then, Hal, we've heard a lot of testimony from people about what you've done at this company. Why don't you tell us in your own words what kind of an employee you were.
Hal: Marginal. At best.
Dennis: Would you care to elaborate?
Hal: When you work for a big, impersonal corporation like this... You know those nature shows where a wasp paralyzes a caterpillar, then injects it full of larvae? It stays alive for weeks, completely aware, feeling every little bite as the larvae devour it from the inside. I sat in a cubicle every day envying that caterpillar 'cause at least he got to be on TV. I hated that job. I was a crappy employee.
Dennis: And yet countless eyewitnesses paint you as a man at the center of an ingenious conspiracy. [Jamie fusses as Lois nurses one of her plastic piggies] Time and time again you were placed at a crucial event. Do you have any way of refuting these claims?
Hal: Well, I didn't. Who could remember what they were doing on January 25, 2002 or March 14, 2003? But my son figured something out. Stand up, Malcolm. I know he looks normal, but my son is a freaky genius with numbers. I'm telling you, his head should be the size of a medicine ball. You give him any day of any year, and he can tell you what day of the week it is.
Dennis: And what does that have to do with anything?
Hal: Well, he figured out that every date on the board is a Friday. Every one. You can check the calendar.
Dennis: I'm sorry, I don't understand why that would be so important.
Hal: I haven't shown up for work on a Friday in 15 years.
Dennis: He didn't show up on Fridays for 15 years!
Hal: [whispers to the judge] That isn't going to be on the record, is it?

Dennis: The prosecution maintains that you handed the board of directors a set of cooked books on August 9.
Hal: Yes, that's when I went to Bavaria Land.
Dennis: And when you were supposed to be hiding money offshore on December 6?
Hal: I went to The Nutcracker. Pretty good for a community college production.
Dennis: February 21.
Hal: My driver's license from Grand Prix Go-Carts.
Dennis: June 27.
Hal: Pilgrim Village.
Dennis: July 11.
Hal: There was a ghost in my car. Right in my car.
Dennis: And finally, August 22.
Hal: Well, I was chosen to be a junior trainer at Oceanland. He did all the work. I just stood there.

Malcolm: I can't fake Dad's signature. I do Mom. Reese does Dad.
Francis: What? You should each be able to do both. What did I tell you about building a little redundancy into the system?

Francis: See? [scraping macaroni off a child's artwork] You don't need grocery money if you're creative.

Sgt. Hendrix: Right face! Left face! About face! Right arm windmill! Hop on your left foot! Teapot! About face! Forward march! [Reese repeatedly walks into a wall] He'll do that all day. He's got no more thought than a bug. It's almost enough to restore my faith in the future of this army.
Capt. Renquist: I guess those subliminal ads are working after all.
Sgt. Hendrix: The army doesn't use subliminal ads. [to Reese] At ease! Now, in a few days we have some very important field training exercises, and I want you to be my number two, because you will obey my every command like some kind of beautiful, brainless zombie robot.
Reese: I'd be honored, Drill Sergeant.
Sgt. Hendrix: Now let's go make some bets and march you into the electric fence.

[the two privates dump Reese in a cell with the rest of his red team:]
Private James: Freak held his breath until he turned blue and then passed out. [both walk away]
Reese: Yeah! Whoo! Haven't done that in a while.
Private Martinez: You okay?
Reese: I'm fine. I know how to get us out of here.
Private Martinez: That's impossible. Look around. We're in prison, man.
Reese: Wrong. We are not in prison. We're grounded. And there's always a way to get out of being grounded. You can pry up some floorboards... set your bed on fire. There's only two things you have to remember. You need a diversion and the little guy gets screwed. But that's okay. He's too little to do anything about it. You're going to have to eat some dirt, about three pounds of it.
Private Franklin: What good's a diversion going to do? We're tied up.
Reese: I guess your brothers never tied you up and left you in a Dumpster on trash day. Okay, start eating. It's not fatal, it only looks like it.