Golfer: Nice shot, Bishop. You must have made a deal with the devil!
Bishop: You know, theoretically, I could break the Club record.
Golfer: You better come in until this blows over.
Bishop: So what do you think?
Carl: I'd keep playing. I don't think the heavy stuff will come down for a while.
Bishop: You're right. Anyway, the good Lord would never disrupt the best game of my life.
[Bishop continues to golf in the rain, hitting amazing shot after amazing shot, with Carl admiring him the entire time. On the last hole, he misses a long putt.]
Bishop: OH RAT FARTS!!!!!
[Bishop is struck by lightning.]

Carl: But, seriously, no b.s...if you ever want to rap or just get weird with somebody...You know...buddies.
Ty: I'll drop by. You drop by my place any time.
Carl: What's your address? You're on Briar, right?
Ty: Briar, yeah. Number 2.
Carl: Do you have a pool?
Ty: A pool and a pond. A pond would be good for you. Natural spring water.
Carl: Anything would be good.

I have a little poem I'd like to read in honor of this occasion, if I may. Spaulding, get your foot off the boat! :"It's easy to grin / When your ship comes in / And you've got the stock market beat. / But the man worthwhile, / Is the man who can smile, / When his shorts are too tight in the seat"... Ah ha ha ha. OK Pookie, do the honors.

Carl: I invented my own kind of grass, too. Did you know that? Look at this. This is registered: Carl Spackler's Bent.
Ty: I've felt grass like this before. I've played on this stuff.
Carl: This is a hybrid. This is a cross bluegrass, Kentucky bluegrass, featherbed bent, and northern California sinsemilla. The amazing stuff about this is that you can play 36 holes on it in the afternoon take it home and just get stoned to the bejeezus-belt at night on this stuff. I've got pounds of this stuff. [hands his joint] Here, take a puff on this big ole' Bob Marley joint.
Ty: Oh, I couldn't possibly, well maybe one.
[Starts coughing uncontrollably]
Carl: It's a little harsh...Here. [hands him bottle of wine] Cannonball it, Cannonball! Cannonball comin' through, Cannonball!

Judge Smails: I'm having a party at the Yacht Club this Sunday. I'm christening my new sloop. What are you doing this Sunday?
Danny: No plans.
Judge Smails: Great! How would you like to mow my lawn? I figured a college-bound fellow could use a few extra dollars. And when you're finished why don't you drop by the Yacht Club? Eh? Huh? [laughs]

Ty: What brings you to this nape of the woods...neck of the wape? How come you're here?
Lacey: Daddy wanted to broaden me.
Ty: In this place? Good luck!
Lacey: What do you do for excitement?
Ty: Oh, I...play a lot of golf.
Lacey: Golf? Nixon plays golf. I bet you have a lot of interesting stories about your ball landing in the rough.
Ty: So what do you do?
Lacey: I enjoy...skinny-skiing...going to bullfights on acid. I'll bet you've got a lot of nice ties.
Ty: How do you mean?
Lacey: Would you like to tie me up with some of your ties, Ty?
Ty: I've got a good idea. Let's pretend...we're really human beings.

Dr. Beeper: We're about to tee off now so call the hospital and move my appointment with Mrs. Bellows back 90 minutes...Just snake a tube down her nose and I'll be there...in four or five hours.

Danny: I've just got to win that caddy tournament! I owe it to my folks to get that scholarship.
Ty: Why do you want to go to college?
Danny: I don't know.
Ty: Let me tell you a story. I once knew a guy who could've been a great golfer. Could've gone pro. All he needed was a little time and some practice. He decided to go to college instead. He went for four years. Did pretty well. At the end of his four years, his last semester, he was kicked out. You know what for? He was night-putting. Just putting at night...with the 15-year-old daughter of the Dean. You know who that guy was?
Danny: No.
Ty: Take one good guess.
Danny: Bob Hope.
Ty: No, that guy was Mitch Cumstein, my roommate. He's a good guy. Don't be obsessed with your desires, Danny. The Zen philosopher Basho once wrote: 'A flute with no holes, is not a flute. And a donut with no hole, is a danish'. Funny guy.

[to Ty, about Judge Smails] If he bothers you, I'll take care of him. What you've got to do is cut the hamstring on the back of his leg right at the bottom. He'll never play golf again, because his weight displacement goes back, all his weight is on his right foot, and he'll push everything off to the right. He'll never come through on anything. He'll quit the game.

"Great big gobs of greasy, grimy gopher guts." How about a nice, cool drink, varmints? Scum! Slime! Menace to the golfing industry! You're a disgrace. You're varmints. You're one of the lowest members of the food chain and you'll probably be replaced by the rat. Well, I have been pushed. It's about time somebody teaches these varmints a little lesson about morality and about what it's like to be a decent, upstanding member of a society! Come to Carl, varmint. -- I guess we're playing for keeps now. I guess the kidding around is pretty much over. I guess it's just a matter of pumping about five thousand gallons of water down there to teach you a little bit of a lesson. Is that it? I think it is!

Judge Smails: You have worn out your welcome, sir!
Czervik: Is that so? Who made you Pope of this dump?
Judge Smails: Bushwood...a "dump"? Well, I'll guarantee you'll never be a member here!
Czervik: Are you kidding? You think I'd join this crummy "snobatorium"? Why, this whole place sucks!
Judge Smails: Su-su-su-...
Czervik: That's right. It sucks! The only reason I'm here is maybe I'll buy it!
Judge Smails: B-b-Buy Bushwood! You...?

Lacey: I tried calling, but there is no listing for "Mr. Wonderful."
Ty: What spelling did you use? Sorry about this mess. Let me just clean up here. I'm getting ready for the season.
Lacey: Duck?
Ty: No, no. Dolphin. Would you like a drink? Tuna Colada, perhaps?
Lacey: Anything. Who's your decorator, Benihana?
Ty: No, I brought most of that stuff back from Vietnam.
Lacey: You were in the war?
Ty: Uh...no....Homo. Much better now though.

Oh, Porterhouse! Look at the wax build-up on those shoes! This is fine leather! I want that wax stripped off! I want them creamed and buffed with a fine chamois. And I want them now! Chop chop!

Judge Smails: The man is a menace! Cut that off! Music is a violation of our personal privacy! He's breaking the law!
Danny: I've always been fascinated with the law, sir.
Judge Smails: Really? What areas?
Danny: All areas. Personal privacy, noise statutes....I'd planned to go to law school after I graduated, but my folks won't have enough money to put me through college.
Judge Smails: The world needs ditchdiggers, too.
Lacey: Nice try.

Spaulding, this one calls for the old Billy Barule. Oh, Billy, Billy, Billy. This is a biggie! Don't let me down, Billy! Forty thousand dollars...Billy