J.D.: Uh, listen, while I have you here. I'm applying for a fellowship, and I could really use a letter of recommendation. I was thinking that, when you wrote it, instead of using a girl's name you could refer to me as "Dr. Dorian." I think it sounds a little more professional and, frankly, each time you call me a girl's name, I die a little inside.
Dr. Cox: Look, Janice, Denise, Tiffany Amber Thiessen! Let me go ahead and share a little something special with you that I like to call Perry's Perspective. One, if someone's standing in front of me in line at the coffee shop and they can't decide what they want in the half an hour it took to get to the register, I should be allowed to kill them. Two, I'm fairly sure if they took porn off the internet, there'd only be one website left, and it'd be called "Bring Back the Porn!" Three, and most importantly of all, the only way to be respected as a doctor - nay, respected as a man - is to be an island. You are born alone, you damn sure die alone. Isn't that right, Spike? The point is, and you just might want to jot this down: only the weak need help.
J.D.: I should get that tattooed on my neck.

Carla: You are entering a new phase in your life. Why are you fighting it?
Dr. Cox: I'm not- I'm not fighting anything.
Carla: So, even though you have a full head of hair, you still take Propecia because you like the way it tastes?
Dr. Cox: You know, the other day I found a gray hair in my happy trail.
Carla: Is that the patch of hair that goes from your belly button down to your pe-
Dr. Cox: It is, indeed.
Carla: So? You have a gray happy trail! A lot of women find it distinguished.
Dr. Cox: Carla, I have a six-month-old child. I'm gonna be one of those weird old guys who brings my son down to the park, where everybody is like, "Hmm, is he the dad? Is he the grand-dad? Is he the grand-dad's grand-dad? And, oh, my God! Why is he pushing a traffic cone on the swing while his five-year-old little boy is in the mud crying? Is- Is he taunting the little boy? No! He can't even see the little boy! And, now look, he's actually taking the traffic cone, putting it in the mini-van, and driving away while the little boy cries and the traffic cone sits quietly and watches Finding Nemo on DVD."

J.D.: [v.o.] My last week of residency had begun. In seven days I'd be a full-fledged doctor. It felt pretty special to me, and I had a hunch it meant a lot to one other person as well.
Dr. Cox: Yes, milady?
J.D.: So, you felling all, like, bleaaah?
Dr. Cox: That depends, does "bleaaah" mean confused and incredibly annoyed?
J.D.: Come on, man, it's our last week together. The J.D. and Cox train is pulling into the station. You must have a metaphor you want to use. Hit me with it.
Dr. Cox: I suppose I could riff a list of things that I care as little about as our last week together. Let me see... Uh, low-carb diets, Michael Moore, the Republican National Convention, Kabbalah and all Kabbalah-related products, Hi-def TV, the Bush daughters, wireless hot spots, 'The O.C.', the U.N., recycling, getting Punk'd, Danny Gans, the Latin Grammys, the real Grammys. Jeff, that Wiggle who sleeps too darn much. The Yankees payroll, all the red states, all the blue states, every hybrid car, every talk show host, everything on the planet, everything in the solar system, everything, everything, everything, everything, everything, everything that exists - past, present and future, in all discovered and undiscovered dimensions. Oh! And Hugh Jackman.
J.D.: Hugh Jackman's Wolverine. How dare he.

Dr. Cox: What do you want?
J.D.: As co-chief resident, I've noticed that some of my residents are a little overwhelmed. And I think it would be nice if you gave 'em one of your patented pep-talks, you know?
Dr. Cox: I'll be more than glad to give your residents a little pep-talk.
[later:]
Dr. Cox: Each and every one of you is going to kill a patient. At some point during your residency, you will screw up, they will die, and it will be burned into your conscience forever. Hell, take pee-pants, here.
Doug: "Pee-pants."
Dr. Cox: He just might go ahead and get himself a good clean kill this morning, seeing as his patient, Miss Samson, is in DKA and he hasn't been tracking her phosphate level. Her phosphate level. Her phosphate level.
J.D.: Doug, stop writing and go!
Dr. Cox: That young man has killed so many patients, I'm starting to think he just might be a government operative. The point is, the harder you study, the longer you just might be able to hold off that first kill. Other than that, I guess cross your fingers and hope that the guy you murder is a jackass with no family. Great to see you kids. All the best!

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?

Elliot: Look who's back, Mrs. Goldstein. It's Dr. Cox.
Mrs. Goldstein: How was Acapulco?
Elliot: We told everyone you were in Acapulco.
Dr. Cox: I never went to Acapulco, Mrs. Goldstein. I lost three patients and spent the last two weeks on my couch trying to drink myself to death so that my victims and I could be reunited in the afterlife and they could rightly have their vengeance. Then, I realized that that tactic would never work, as I'd be sent straight to hell, which, I imagine is actually a lot like Acapulco, only there would be fewer Latin men trying to sell me Chiclets on the beach. All the best.

Dr. Cox: What now, Dr. Barbie?
Elliot: Mrs. Guerrero is a forty-year-old lupus patient who presented with a shortness of breath so I started her on a heparin drip and ordered a VQ scan. I just wanted to run that by you.
Dr. Cox: One. Two. Three.
Elliot: So, shall I continue with heparin-
Dr. Cox: It's really important that you let me get to ten.
Elliot: I just thought-
Dr. Cox: Listen, cookie. You've been here over a month. This is Medicine 101. I don't want everything little run by me. I don't wanna give my two cents' worth. But if you ever do want to know my opinion, rest assured it will always be that you're an incredible pain and every time I see your Kewpie-Doll face it just makes me want to pick you up and shake you until all the hours of my life that you've wasted fall out. Now laugh.
Elliot: What?
Dr. Cox: Laugh so that she doesn't think I'm yelling at you. [all laugh]
Carla: Oh, how fun was that?

J.D.: Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm. Oh, good. He's not here. Dr. Cox?
Dr. Cox: It's time. Sit down. Now, what do you want me to say? That you're great? That you're raising the bar for interns everywhere?
J.D.: I'm cool with that.
Dr. Cox: Well, I'm not gonna say that. You're OK. You might be better than that some day. But right now all I see is a guy who's so worried about what everybody thinks of him that he has no real belief in himself. I mean, did you even wonder why I told you to do your own evaluation?
J.D.: I can't think of a safe answer, I just figured-
Dr. Cox: Clam up! I wanted you to think about yourself. And I mean really think. What are you good at? What do you suck at? And then I wanted you to put it down on paper, and not so I could see it, and not so anybody else could see it, but so that you could see it. Because ultimately, you don't have to answer to me, you don't have to answer to Kelso, you don't even have to answer to your patients, for God's sake. You only have to answer to one guy, Newbie, and that's you! There... you are evaluated. Get the hell outta my sight. You, honest to God, get me so angry I'm afraid I might hurt myself.

Dr. Cox: Ms. Tracy, we're going to go ahead-
Jill Tracy: Can you give me one sec? I'm on the zone, trying to arrange to have the food delivered here. Fatty had a party and nobody came.
Elliot: Preaching to the choir.
Dr. Cox: [whistles] Okay, think of what little patience I have as, oh, I don't know, your virginity. You always thought it would be there until that night junior year when you were feeling a little down about yourself, and your pal, Kevin, who just wanted to be friends, well, he dropped by and he brought a copy of About Last Night and a four-pack of Bartles & Jaymes. And bad-ow! Woo-hoo-hoo, it was gone for ever. Just like my patience is now.
Jill Tracy: So you do scary little speeches? How adorable!
Elliot: This is so much fun.
Dr. Cox: Careful, Rapunzel. Fun time is officially over.

Dr. Cox: Turn around. Turn around. You see Dr. Wen in there? He's explaining to that family that something went wrong and the patient died. He's gonna tell them what happened, he's gonna say he's sorry, then he's going back to work. You think anybody else in that room is going back to work today? That is why we distance ourselves. That's why we make jokes. We don't do it because it's fun. We do it so we can get by. And sometimes because it's fun. But mostly it's the getting by thing. And by the way... [bobs head] Bob. Who doesn't get that?