- Fred G. Sanford: [after assisting a confused Mexican woman] She wanted to know where the bus to San Diego was.
- Cal Pettie: Why'd she ask me? Do I look like a Mexican?
- Fred G. Sanford: You look like a bus.
- Mrs. Pettie: Well, just let me take a good look at you, sonny.
- Fred G. Sanford: Well, that'll take about a week.
- Cal Pettie: What do you think, Mama?
- Mrs. Pettie: The more I look at you the more you look like Paul Newman.
- Fred G. Sanford: Don't you mean Alred E. Neuman?
- Mrs. Pettie: How come in your letters home you never once mentioned your partner was colored?
- Cal Pettie: He's not colored, he's black.
- Mrs. Pettie: Colored or black, what is the difference?
- Cal Pettie: Well, depending on who you say it to, about fifteen stitches.
- Cal Pettie: Mama, I can't believe it. I lived with you all those years and I didn't know you were prejudiced.
- Mrs. Pettie: Me? I don't have a prejudiced bone in my body. Why, I never say an unkind thing about a Negro, a Jew-boy or a Chink.
- Cal Pettie: Mama, can't you know what you're saying?
- Mrs. Pettie: Yes, we're all God's children. And it's certainly not Mr. Sanford's fault that he was left in the oven too long.
- Fred G. Sanford: [after Cal reports that Mrs. Pettie refuses to stay in a black man's home] I'm going down and have a talk with your mama.
- Cal Pettie: Now wait a minute, Fred. Listen. Look, she's my mama. Don't be mad at her.
- Fred G. Sanford: Me mad? No, I'm gonna butter her up one side and marmalade down the other
- [stepping into the hallway]
- Fred G. Sanford: then I'm gonna shove her in the toaster.