“The eating of an orange is a lot like a successful marriage.”
“I’m thirty-eight years old!”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!” followed by a plaintive wail as he gets shoved back in the morgue locker.
And the kicker:
“Football To The Groin, starring Hans Moleman.”
“Hello, this is Moleman in the morning. Good Moleman to you. Today, part four of our series on the agonizing pain in which I live every daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyy…”
“You’ll never escape the wrath of the mole people! Augh, forget it.”
“I was saying ‘Boo-urns’!”
Marge: I am talking to myself.
Hans: You are? Aww… I thought I’d made a friend.
“I think that I shall never see/My catarcts are blinding me.”
::Drill motor, horrible “squishing” noises::
“Oh no, my braaains…”
::eek:: 
Kowabunga dude
“Down I go…”
“R, Q, J, question mark, smiley face…”
-reading the eye chart at the DMV.
You took four minutes of my life and I want them back. Oh I’d only waste them anyway.
We paid for blood!
-at the hockey game where Bart and Lisa go head to head and then finally end the game at a tie by hugging.
The proper title is “Hans Moleman Productions presents Man Getting Hit By Football.”
[Running away from Huge Human Rolling Ball created by the entire town’s population lining up in a human pyramid, falling down together, then rolling down a hill . . . ]
Which implies he’s been run over by a Huge Human Rolling Ball previously. Which would be just his luck.
Hans Moleman is on death row
Reverend Lovejoy: All right, Hans. Time to go.
Hans Moleman: But he ate my last meal.
Reverend Lovejoy: Well, if that’s the worst thing that’s happen to you today, consider yourself lucky.
(police officers approach Hans)
Hans Moleman: Are you sure it’s legal to execute someone in a local jail?
Reverend Lovejoy: From this point on, no talking.