Bart Sells His Soul Quotes
Bart: You bought my soul back?
Lisa: With the spare change in my piggy bank.
Bart: You don't have any spare change in your piggy bank.
Lisa: Not in any of the ones you know about.
Barney: Well Moe, at least you still got us.
Moe (starts to smile):Yeah. Yeah, that actually makes me feel a little better.
Homer: But wasn't that the problem in the first place? That we were your only customers and that you were going broke? (Moe's face drops and he cleans a glass sulkily while looking at the floor) Moe. Moe. Moe? Oh. You're thinking about all the money you lost, huh? (Moe nods sadly, but puts on a brave face) What was it, 50, 60 thousand dollars? (Moe frowns again and looks at the floor) Moe. Moe. Moe?
Milhouse: I traded your soul for Alf pogs. Remember Alf? He's back. In pog form.
• Rating 5.0 / 5 • Vote for this Quote! • July 23rd, 2007 Lisa: Hmm. Pablo Neruda said, "Laughter is the language of the soul."
Bart: I am familiar with the works of Pablo Neruda.
Lisa: For five dollars, Milhouse could own you for a zillion years.
Bart: If you think he got such a great deal, I'll sell you my conscience for four-fifty. (Lisa walks away) I'll throw in my sense of decency too! It's the Bart Sales Event. Everything about me must go!
Milhouse: Every religion says you have a soul, Bart. Why would they lie? What would they have to gain?
[Camera pans to Rev. Lovejoy, who's counting the contents of many very full collection plates.]
Rev. Lovejoy: I don't hear any scrubbing!
Bart: Soul? Come on, Milhouse, there is no such thing as a soul. It's just something they made up to scare kids, like the boogeyman or Michael Jackson.
• Rating 5.0 / 5 • Vote for this Quote! • July 23rd, 2007 Rev. Lovejoy: I know one of you is responsible for this, so repeat after me. If I withhold the truth may I go straight to hell, where I will eat naught but burning hot coals and drink naught but burning hot cola.
Ralph Wiggum: [continuing the repeating] Where fiery demons will punch me in the back.
Bart: [nonchalant] Where my soul will be chopped into confetti, strewn upon a parade of murderers and single mothers.
Milhouse: [clearly nervous] Where my tongue will be torn out by ravenous birds.
[A raven outside crows menacingly.]
Milhouse: Bart did it! That Bart right there!