Sheldon: Your threats are empty. Nothing can move me.
(Howard drives his car slowly towards Sheldon, pushing his chair forward)
Sheldon: That's it! I'm calling campus security! You prepare for the scolding of your life!

Sheldon: You know what they say. Revenge is a dish best served nude.

Howard: Are you listening to yourself?
Sheldon: I always listen to myself. It's one of the great joys of my life.

Howard: Sheldon, some day, if you get a car, I'm sure they'll give you another parking space.
Sheldon: I don't want another parking space. I want my parking space. It's perfect. It's a corner spot, cutting the risk of door-dings in half. It's a mere 28 steps from the building entrance. The nearby tree provides shade on hot days and is also home to a delightful squirrel. Which is fortuitous because most squirrels are real jerks.

Leonard: All right, you brought this on yourself. Sheldon, get him.
Sheldon: If a zombie bites you, you turn into a zombie. However, if a mummy bites you, all you turn into is some schmo with a mummy bite. So, like a zombie that's been eaten from the waist down, you, sir, have no leg to stand on.

Leonard: Howard did go to the International Space Station.
Sheldon: Yeah, that was five weeks ago. How much longer is he gonna milk that cow?

Sheldon: Payback, it truly is the B word, isn't it?

Howard: Fine, I'm taking your diploma.
Sheldon: Go ahead. That's the only doctorate you'll ever get.

Sheldon: Give me back my parking space.
Howard: You don't need a parking space. You don't have a car.
Sheldon: You don't need an Iron Man helmet. You're not Iron Man.

Howard: He can't handle the fact that I'm a bigger deal than he is now.
Sheldon: Oh, preposterous. I have been solely responsible for this university's six loop quantum gravity calculations, I have changed the way we think about Bose-Einsten condensates, and I am also the one who got Nutter Butters in the cafeteria vending machine. Maybe you missed that news while you were floating around like a goof in outer space.

Sheldon: Well, Howard, thank you. It's quite a gesture on your part. You've shown yourself to be the bigger man.
Howard: Thank you.
Sheldon: Which I found totally unacceptable. I must be the bigger man. Therefore, you may use my spot until such time as I learn to drive or get a Batmobile.

Sheldon: A naked man sat on it. Now, here's my concern, his diet is rich in fatty deli meats. What tests do you have to detect lipid residue?
Store owner: Lipid what?
Sheldon: Lipid residue. An anal autograph. A colon calling card, if you will.

Sheldon: (Playing hackey sack) One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Drat. I'm never going to get to forty-three again. One, two, three, four. Rats.

Sheldon: You may not realize it, but I have difficulty navigating certain aspects of daily life. You know, understanding sarcasm, feigning interest in others, not talking about trains as much as I want. It's exhausting!

Raj: What are you drawing over there?
Sheldon: It's a hypothetical containment field for a Frisbee-sized wormhole that could serve as a portal to a parallel universe.
Howard: Oh, you silly doodlebug.
Leonard: You know, a lot of scientists believe that making contact with other life-forms would probably not end well for us.
Sheldon: It's a Frisbee-sized wormhole, Leonard. You can block it with a Frisbee. Calm down.