Adrian Monk: What about her lipstick?
Captain Stottlemeyer: Lipstick? Looks like he took it.
Lieutenant Disher: Lipstick Killer. Lipstick Assassin. Mr. Lipstick. I've always wanted to name one of these guys.
James Novak: Why?
Lieutenant Disher: If you can name them, you can catch them.
James Novak: Why?

Marci Maven: You know, "fan" can mean one thing to you, and then, you know, something completely different to, like, say, judge Harriet Waxman of the Third District Court, you know? And I'll tell you something about Judge Waxman. She's never been in love. So she's shooting from that perspective, you know what I mean?
James Novak: Where did you get all these pictures?
Marci Maven: Oh, do you like them? Yeah, yeah, they're, um... Well, this one is probably my favorite, If I had to pick a favorite. This is actually real. It's not Photoshopped at all. And it's from a case we worked on together, a homicide. It took a lot of clue hugs, but we cracked it.
James Novak: How about that one?
Marci Maven: This one? Okay. Um, this one is another case, but this one wasn't, um... This one wasn't as real.

James Novak: [v.o.] Who is Detective Adrian Monk? He was born in this modest bay area home 49 years ago, the younger of two brothers. By all accounts, he was an exceptional child.
Neysa Gordon: I used to babysit for the boys almost every weekend.
James Novak: What was he like?
Neysa Gordon: Adrian? Oh, remarkable child. I tell people this, but they don't believe me. He used to change his own diaper. And then he would crawl across the floor and throw it out. Remarkable.

Harold Krenshaw: He hasn't solved 100 cases yet. For the record, he's still at 99. So let's not get ahead of ourselves.
James Novak: You sound a little competitive.
Harold Krenshaw: Sometimes I am a little too competitive. Yes, I own that. I was just talking about that with my new therapist. Monk and I both have new therapists. Mine's way better.

James Novak: [v.o.] Then, in a flash, she was gone. Two weeks before Christmas, 1997, Trudy Monk was downtown running some errands. She returned to her car in a parking garage on Somerset Avenue.
Newscaster: Our top story tonight, the wife of a highly decorated San Francisco detective was killed this morning, the victim of an apparent car bombing. Trudy Monk, a 35-year-old freelance journalist died a short time later at Saint Jude's Hospital. Her husband, Adrian Monk, was by her side. The police are pursuing several leads but have made no arrests.
James Novak: The case is still open. It has been Adrian Monk's obsession for 11 years.
Ambrose Monk: After the hospital, he came back. Back home. He just sat in that chair all night. I could see his soul leaving his body. Adrian died too. The bomb was across town, but it killed my brother too.

Hal Tucker: Well, killing my girlfriend was the easy part. The hard part was pretending to be Monk's friend for a week.
Jimmy Belmont: You ever hear the man try and tell a joke?
Joey Krenshaw: It's like verbal root canal.
Hal Tucker: Excruciating.
James Novak: How did you feel when he arrested you?
Hal Tucker: I actually- I was feeling sorry for him. I felt like he was the village idiot or something. You know, it was humiliating.
Jimmy Belmont: Until that there summation thing.
Hal Tucker: Oh, my God. That summation. I love when people tell me what I've already done.
Joey Krenshaw: Droned! Just, uh, the longest four minutes of my life.
Hal Tucker: I mean, I knew what I did. I killed her. I didn't need him to tell me.

Captain Stottlemeyer: Is that lipstick? Sick enough for you?
Lieutenant Disher: I guess that clinches it. This guy's definitely the Cosmetic Assassin.
Uniform Officer: The what?
Lieutenant Disher: The Cosmetic Assassin. That's what we're calling him.
Captain Stottlemeyer: Maybe you'd like to hear what we're calling you.

Lieutenant Disher: Um, yeah, he has some idiosyncrasies.
James Novak: Like what?
Lieutenant Disher: Fear of heights. Fear of germs. Spiders. Milk.
Natalie: Crowds, elevators, fire.
Lieutenant Disher: Rabbits, tunnels, bridges.
Natalie: Boats.
Lieutenant Disher: Decaffeinated coffee.
Natalie: Lightning.
Captain Stottlemeyer: The wind. He's afraid of the wind.
Lieutenant Disher: Egg whites.
Natalie: Bad.
Lieutenant Disher: Naked people. That one is way up there. I think it goes "naked people" and then "death."

Captain Stottlemeyer: I saw him coming apart like those rockets that hit the atmosphere at the wrong angle. Nothing I could do.
James Novak: So you can't talk about Trudy? [Monk is silent] You didn't leave your house for, what, three years? [Monk shakes his head] The psychiatrists said you'd never work again. But here you are 100 cases later. What keeps you going?
Adrian Monk: I can't die until I know.

Captain Stottlemeyer: Her lipstick was missing, so we were pretty sure it was the same guy.
Lieutenant Disher: The Lipstick Assassin.
Captain Stottlemeyer: Nobody's calling him that, Randy.
Lieutenant Disher: I am.
Captain Stottlemeyer: No, you're not. Now, the third girl never worked at the restaurant. So the three girls had virtually nothing in common. The case was moving sideways on us.
Lieutenant Disher: We didn't have any leads. I mean, who or where was Mr. Lipstick?
Captain Stottlemeyer: [to the cameraman] Could you turn that off for a minute?