Dr. Cox: Newbie, you never promise a patient that they're gonna be fine.
J.D.: Mr. Milligan? His blood pressure's a little low. He just has mono.
Dr. Cox: Oh, for God's sakes, Newbie, take a look around, would you please? What's the difference between your Mr. Milligan and every other patient in this I.C.U.? And if the answer to that question is that he's the only one young enough to have never made a phone call like this: "Brring! Hello? Operator? Give me Stuyvesant 45-45-45", then you'd be right. But since I'm not in the mood to make some big, dramatic, sweeping statement, I'll just tell you this: God hates doctors. He truly does. You see all these old people in here? Well, any of 'em would give just about anything to be able to sashay off this planet, but most of 'em are gonna stay and they're gonna live forever and ever and ever. And your Mr. Milligan, well, it turns out he's just young enough to die. I mean, think about it: It's the holidays, there's a sweet little kid involved. Can't you just feel it?