Mrs. White: First, we sort by the number of holes, then by color. What's in your mouth?
Dewey: Nothing.
Mrs. White: There are at least 20 things I will not tolerate and lying is one of them. Spit it out. [Dewey spits a button into her hand] You're eating my buttons.
Dewey: I wasn't eating. I was saving.
Mrs. White: What are you, a hamster? What were you saving it for?
Dewey: I don't know. It's pretty. It's my favorite one.
Mrs. White: You know, actually, it's my favorite, too. What do you think of this one?
Dewey: It's ugly. I hate it.
Mrs. White: So do I. My, you're a smart little boy.

Lois: Do you think we're wealthy?!
Malcolm: What?!
Lois: Do you think we're wealthy? Wealthy people drive fancy cars. They buy fresh pasta. Do we do any of those things? No! Wealthy people can afford to have their vacations ruined. No big deal. They just pick up and they go again. Your father and I work so hard. We work so long. What is wrong with you two?! Are you aborigines?! Every time I turn around, I hear someone screaming and fighting, and I pray to God it's someone else's kids, but it's not. [Malcolm looks at Lois standing in the flume and then looks at Reese] It's always you! Sane children would appreciate this... [Malcolm gets Reese's attention and looks down at Lois. Reese shakes his head, but Malcolm insists.] ...but you have to keep going at each other like rabid monkeys! It is not enough that you do this every day. You have to make me suffer, too. So help me! [looks at Malcolm and Reese] Don't you dare!
[As Lois points a stern finger at Malcolm, he reaches out and pokes her finger, sending her falling back into the slide]
Lois: [screams]
Life Guard: Arms and legs crossed at all times!
Reese: That is the bravest thing I've ever seen you do.
Malcolm: Yeah.
Reese: You're going to die.
Malcolm: I know. So, do you think she's okay? [Lois growls as she pulls the boys into the slide]

Hal: Who wants to make five bucks?
All: How?
Hal: I need someone to take the fall.
Lois: [o.s.] Oh, my God!
Malcolm: What did you do?
Hal: I can't tell you. Yes or no, no questions asked.
Lois: [o.s.] Oh, my God!
Malcolm: Make it ten.
Hal: Done.
Lois: [o.s.] Oh, my God!
Hal: You're a good son. [grabs Malcolm] I got him, honey! I got him! Don't worry.

Spangler: Well, you'd think I'd get bored wiping the floor with my cadets.
Francis: God knows we enjoy it, sir.
Spangler: Do you know what your problem is, cadet? Discipline. Anything worth doing is worth doing well. Whatever I do, whether it's teaching you boys or mastering tai chi, or playing pool... I focus. I push myself. But you don't commit to anything, son. You're never going to be a winner because you do everything half-assed. [fails to make shot] Oh, regrettable.
Francis: You may have spoken too soon, sir. I think you'll find I play pool with my whole ass. Eight ball, corner pocket. [sinks white ball] Damn.
Spangler: Ah, the fatal scratch. Once again, I waltz with Lady Victory. And until you focus, Francis, she is never going to be your dance partner.

Spangler: I just got a call from the sheriff that a cocksure, smart-mouthed youth looking very much like yourself has been hustling pool at the local bars.
Francis: Really, sir?
Spangler: You are in serious trouble, cadet.
Francis: I can explain-
Spangler: Why have you been holding back when we've played pool?
Francis: What?
Spangler: I want to know why you've been letting me win.
Francis: Sir, if I played for real I'd just end up humiliating you in front of the school, and and you'd, you know, torture us all for it. Really, nothing good could come from it, and and besides, winning seems to make you so happy.
Spangler: I am not a child. Do you really think me so petty that I would throw a tantrum over something so small as a game of pool?!
Francis: My mistake, sir.
Spangler: We are going to play again. And you are going to give me your best game, cadet. And to make sure of that, if you don't win... Picture yourself, 0400, awakened from sweet dreams of Mommy, sent outside into the bitter cold to raise our school colors and stand at attention for three hours until reveille is called. Now, picture that for 230 consecutive days.
Francis: But what if I try my best and I still lose?
Spangler: Then you shall be miserable indeed. Dismissed.

Dewey: Can I watch TV?
Mrs. White: No.
Dewey: Can I play video games?
Mrs. White: No.
Dewey: What can I do?
Mrs. White: Something quiet.
[Dewey sits on the floor and rolls a small, plastic car across the coffee table]
Mrs. White: Quieter.
[Dewey holds the car in the air and hops it across the table]

Dewey: And then, I was playing with my imaginary friend and Reese hit me because he said I shouldn't talk to myself.
Mrs. White: Well, Reese is a horrid little boy. I mean, there's nothing wrong with having an imaginary friend. I talk to my Harold all the time.
Dewey: You do?
Mrs. White: Of course. He's here right now.
Dewey: Would he like a cookie?
Mrs. White: Sure. [Dewey offers a cookie to his left] No, no, no. He's over there.

Francis: Sir, what are you doing?
Spangler: I think I'm losing. And gracefully, I'd like it to be noted.
Francis: But you could have made that shot.
Spangler: I could say the same thing to you. There were at least a dozen shots that you've held back on. But since you seem to be motivated more by losing, I'm going to beat you at your own game.
Francis: Huh?
Spangler: I'm going down, cadet. I'm going down hard.
Francis: But sir, these guys are going to kick my ass if I win.
Spangler: Well, that's just gravy. May the best man lose. [takes a shot] Fudge! It seems I've scratched again. Well, you seem to be on a roll, cadet.

Dewey: [sobbing] Why can't I go?
Lois: Dewey, we discussed this. You have to stay home because of your ear infection.
Dewey: I never get to go.
Lois: Honey, I know it seems like a pattern but it's just this. And Disneyland. [Dewey whimpers] Oh, and that chocolate factory tour. You know, maybe it's time to stop sticking dirty things in your ears.

Reese: What do you want to do first?
Malcolm: [nasal] What makes you think I want to do anything with you?
Reese: What's your problem?
Malcolm: That nose-plug thing was bogus. You crossed the line, Reese.
Reese: What?!
Malcolm: You sold me out to Mom. It would've been different if I had done something to you, but that was totally cold-blooded.
Reese: Don't be such a baby.
Malcolm: What you did to me was an act of war. And believe me, I will get you back. You won't know where or when, but you're gonna pay.
Reese: You sound funny. [chuckles]