Dr. Cox: Carla? I apologize. I am a horse's ass.
Carla: It's not you. It's everything. Ever since I was a little girl, I had this fairy-tale idea of the perfect wedding. And, oh yeah, I always ended up married! Pff.
Dr. Cox: Come on, marriage is overrated. Jordan and I aren't married, and we're getting along great.
Jordan: Uh, Perr, is making out with a stranger cheating?
Dr. Cox: Technically not if it's under ten seconds, dear.
Jordan: Ah, not worth it.
Dr. Cox: Look, you and Turk were meant to be together. It's fate and you know it.
Carla: Thank you.

J.D.: Ted, can you play a little music for us, buddy?
Ted: It's gonna cost you double what you paid us for the church.
Turk: Here's twenty.
Ted: And, here's four back.

Carla: Hey, baby.
Turk: I'm so sorry I messed everything up, baby.
Carla: Don't be. Let's dance.
Turk: Set me up, Ted.
Ted: Um, hi. We haven't used instruments in a long time, so bear with us if we're a little rusty. One, two, three.
[Ted and his band play a cover of "Eight Days A Week" by The Beatles]

J.D.: [v.o.] I guess, in the end, things seldom work out exactly the way you expect.
Carla: Turk, our plane leaves in an hour.
Turk: I know, I just gotta check on my patient, baby. Hey. How's it going, Mr. Fitzpatrick?
Father Fitzpatrick: Actually, it's Father Fitzpatrick.
Carla: Could you do us a quick favor?
Turk: Mm-hmm.

Turk: Okay, Carla's dying, it's rally time. We have no band, we have no DJ. You're my best man, brainstorm.
J.D.: Remember that after-party we had in college, when the stereo went out and I ended up hooking up with that grad student from Brazil?
Turk: Yeah?
J.D.: That was awesome.
Turk: Woo hoo, you made out with a little person.
J.D.: I thought she was kneeling.