Adrian Monk: Do you see a journal anywhere? She supposedly kept a journal. [opens closet] Huh. Looks like she had some roommates. A cheerleader, a French maid. Wait. Oh, you know what? They weren't roommates, Natalie. This is a love nest. That's what it is.
Natalie: You think?
Adrian Monk: This is one of those love nests that you read about.
Natalie: Yeah, but for who? That's the question. Who was she meeting? Oh, my God!
Adrian Monk: What? What is it?
Natalie: Nothing. It's nothing. Mr. Monk, don't open that drawer, you understand? Whatever happens, whatever you do, don't ever, ever, ever... ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever open that drawer!
Adrian Monk: What if there's a clue in there? What if it could solve the case?
Natalie: I don't care!

Harold Krenshaw: As you all know, we lost a dear friend this week. Eileen Hill's body was discovered earlier this morning. Let us pray that the San Francisco police catch her killer and bring him or her to justice. Or if they don't catch him, let us pray that Eileen's murder was the work of a random nut job, or frustrated ex-Boyfriend, and not some kind of a masked vigilante, who, for some reason, has a personal vendetta against the City Council, and is determined to slaughter us, one member at a time, picking us off when we least expect it, using a different, yet somehow appropriate method for each of his grisly killings. Amen.

Adrian Monk: I was buried alive once.
Natalie: Yeah, I remember.
Adrian Monk: I was in a box. I was underground for three hours. And that box is now the second-most frightening place I've ever been.

Dr. Bell: So, uh, you want me to put this up?
Adrian Monk: Maybe in the waiting room.
Dr. Bell: I think it might upset some of my patients. A lot of them are paranoid enough.
Adrian Monk: Well, what if I write "She's probably okay" on the bottom?
Dr. Bell: Maybe.
Adrian Monk: And by "maybe," you mean...
Dr. Bell: I mean "no."
Adrian Monk: Yeah.
Dr. Bell: I'm sorry.

Dr. Bell: You think she was murdered?
Adrian Monk: It's starting to look like it.
Dr. Bell: Maybe she ran away. Maybe she couldn't stand all those meetings. I served on the city council. Not here. When I lived in Tulsa. I hated it. The meetings where interminable. After a few months, I stopped going all together. I used to send my secretary in as my proxy.
Adrian Monk: Is that legal?
Dr. Bell: It was in Tulsa.
Adrian Monk: Proxy.
Dr. Bell: Adrian, you're standing up. Why don't you sit down?
Adrian Monk: I think you're a genius.
Dr. Bell: Okay, you can stand.

Adrian Monk: Actually, the key piece of evidence was right in front of me the whole time. It was her.
Maria Schecter: Me? What?
Adrian Monk: I don't know how I could've missed it. Eileen Hill was a well-educated, professional woman. She was an adult. This woman, on the other hand, is a dolt. Adult, dolt. Adult, dolt. Adult, dolt, adult dolt...
Natalie: Mr. Monk, she's right here.
Adrian Monk: She knows she's an idiot. She can't even answer a phone. Have you ever tried talking to her? It's torture. Question, why would Eileen Hill hire a moron like that? The answer is simple and heart breaking. To convince you that she was pregnant. To manipulate you, to get you to leave your wife. She need to have a home pregnancy test come out positive. And for that, she need pregnant urine.
Paul Crawford: Pregnant urine?
Adrian Monk: That's why she advertised in a Lamaze class. She need to hire a pregnant woman, so she could give her a drug test. It was all about the drug test. It's the only possible reason why Eileen Hill - or anyone - would hire this person.
Natalie: He doesn't mean it.
Adrian Monk: Of course, you did have some trouble when you were dumping the body. You drove to the pier, you thought you were alone. But there were a couple tourists nearby. Did they see you? Did they take a picture? You probably weren't sure, but you couldn't take a chance.
Paul Crawford: Still waiting for some proof, Mr. Monk. Real evidence.
Adrian Monk: You mean, like this? Chalmers of London. Imported. Custom made. Just like the one that was around Eileen Hill's neck. Sheriff.
Sheriff: Mr. Crawford, would you come with us, please?
Paul Crawford: Yeah.

Harold Krenshaw: I'm talking about your new therapist. The mystery doctor. The genius you're always raving about. Who is he? Just tell me his name.
Adrian Monk: I can't tell you. It's privileged information.
Harold Krenshaw: No, it's not. What happens in the sessions is privileged. His name isn't privileged. People recommend therapists every day. Am I right, Natalie?
Natalie: I don't know, Harold, I'm just waiting for the conversation to be over.
Adrian Monk: Okay, fine, fine. His name is Doctor... Door.
Harold Krenshaw: Doctor Door? Is that the best you could do? I suppose if we were standing over there by that alarm, You would have said Doctor Bell?
Natalie: [does a spittake all over Harold] Oh, God, Harold. I'm so sorry!
Harold Krenshaw: Don't touch me! Don't touch me!
Natalie: Sorry, I'm sorry.

Dr. Bell: Adrian, you've been going back to that parking garage for 11 years. Ever since Trudy died.
Adrian Monk: That's right.
Dr. Bell: You're there two, maybe three times a month. Now, the forensics people have covered every inch of it. So here's my question. Do you believe-- I mean, do you really believe, in your heart of hearts, that there's evidence in that parking garage you haven't found?
Adrian Monk: [sighs] No.
Dr. Bell: Still, you're determined to save it.
Adrian Monk: There's a wall on the lower level. It's a gray wall, and it says "B-5" in big, red letters.
Dr. Bell: What about that wall?
Adrian Monk: It was the last thing that she saw. I can't live without it.

Adrian Monk: Harold, she can't do that. It's too late, right?
Harold Krenshaw: In point of fact, it's not too late at all. This is only a recess. The meeting hasn't been officially adjourned. So the vote isn't final. Read the bylaws.
Adrian Monk: I read the bylaws.
Harold Krenshaw: Well, read them again. Let's reconvene the meeting. We're gonna be voting again. Uh, for the record, I don't think you're a dolt.
Adrian Monk: Maria.
Harold Krenshaw: Your boss looks pretty depressed. May I suggest that you call his new therapist? What was his name again?
Natalie: Dr. Bell.
Harold Krenshaw: Dr. Bell. See you in the waiting room.

Maria Schecter: Councilwoman Hill's office, can you hold, please? Councilwoman Hill's office, may I put you on hold?
Adrian Monk: Hello? Hello, my name is--
Maria Schecter: I can't talk to you right now, okay? The councilwoman is missing. It's a madhouse in here. Thank God it's Friday.
Natalie: It's not Friday.
Maria Schecter: Who told you that?
Natalie: Well, no one told me.