Homer Simpson: But Marge... valets! For once maybe someone will call me "sir" without adding "you're making a scene."
[Homer and Mr. Burns are playing golf; Homer is in a sand trap]
Mr. Burns: For god sakes, man. Use an open-faced club. The sand wedge.
Homer: Mmmmm... open-faced club sandwich.
Gate Guard: Name, please.
Homer Simpson: Simpson family.
Marge Simpson: We're not poor.
[the whole family stares at her]
Marge Simpson: Well, we're not.
Mr. Burns: Who is that lavatory links man, Smithers?
Waylon Smithers: Homer Simpson, sir. One of the fork and spoon operators from sector 7-G.
Mr. Burns: Well, he's certainly got a loose waggle. Perhaps I've finally found a golfer worthy of a match with Monty Burns, eh?
Waylon Smithers: His waggle is no match for yours, sir. I've never seen you lose a game. Except for that one in '74 when you let Richard Nixon win. That was very kind of you, sir.
Mr. Burns: Oh, he just looked so forlorn, Smithers, with his
Mr. Burns: "Oh, I can't go to prison, Monty. They'll eat me alive!"
Mr. Burns: I wonder if this Homer Nixon is any relation?
Waylon Smithers: Unlikely, sir. They spell and pronounce their names differently.
Mr. Burns: Bah! Schedule a game and I'll ask him myself.
Homer: What's the point of going out? We're just going to wind up back here anyway.
Bart Simpson: That place is weird. A man in the bathroom kept handing me towels, until I paid him to stop.
Homer Simpson: [holding a stack of towels] Should have held out longer, boy!
Homer Simpson: Good morning, Mr. Burns. Beautiful day to be outside, isn't it?
Mr. Burns: Rant on, Simpson, but your vainglorious boasting will only add savor to my inevitable triumph.
Homer Simpson: [pause] Yes.
Homer: Maybe, just once, someone will call me "sir" without adding, "you're making a scene."
Marge Simpson: We've got a winning hand. We can take the rest of the tricks. Ooh, you better be careful. The purpose of this game is to make friends. You don't make friends by winning. Still, there's nothing more popular than a gracious winner. Don't ask me! I'm just hair! Your head stopped eighteen inches ago!
Evelyn: Well I wonder where Marge could be! She's missing her own initiation!
Susan: I hope she didn't take my attempt to destroy her too seriously.
Mr. Burns: Use the open-faced club! The sandwedge!
Homer Simpson: Mmm... open-faced club sandwich...
Tom Kite: Now you don't want to overthink.
Homer Simpson: Not a problem.
Tom Kite: Keep your head down.
Homer Simpson: Huh?
Tom Kite: Pretend there's nobody else here and just go at your own pace.
[the ball lands near the hole]
Tom Kite: Wow! Very impressive. You're a natural, Mr. Simpson.
Homer Simpson: Really?
Tom Kite: Uh huh. Now all you need is your *own* set of clubs
Tom Kite: ... and stay the hell out of my locker! You can keep the shoes!