Lisa: Mom, I feel kinda funny wearing white. I mean… Milhouse…

Marge: Oh, Milhouse doesn’t count.

Smithers: Oh, Mr. Burns, we’ll thaw you out the second they discover the cure for seventeen stab wounds in the back. How are we doing, boys?

Frink: Well, we’re up to fifteen!

Isn’t it wonderful? Master Hugh has finally found a true love.

Librarian: Hmph. First they hate each other, now all of the sudden, they love each other. Oh, it doesn’t make any sense to me.

Man: Of course not, you’re a robot.

Hugh: I’ll get the dictionary. 
Lisa: Why?
Hugh: You’ll see when you get there: the word “stochastic”.
Lisa: “Pertaining to a process involving a randomly-determined sequence of observations”.

In memory of a real tree

This is the worst day of my life.