J.D.: You know what? Let's not play into his blame game.
Carla: Agreed.
[later, J.D. and Carla talk to Turk separately:]
J.D.: Turk, she was pourin' drinks into me, and she knows I put out when I'm drunk.
Carla: He took me to a bar. I didn't ask him to walk me home!
J.D.: I'm tellin' you, dude, she was all over me like ants on candy.
Carla: You think you're talkin' to Turk, don't you? Idiot.

J.D.: [v.o.] After sharing a quick victory dance with Roland, the heavy-set orderly, who, coincidentally, was my victory dancer coach.
Roland: Pop the hips.
J.D.: Okay.
Roland: Pop the hips, J.D.
J.D.: Thanks, Roland. One day I'll get it.
Roland: I doubt it.
J.D.: [v.o.] I got to thinking about relationships about how people fall in love, have kids, grow old together, and say good-bye. And then, for some reason, I thought about the circus. But then I was back on relationships.
Back to your room, Mr. Johnson. You've got one ventricle. And I couldn't help thinking that maybe it wasn't luck that made relationships last. Maybe it was just a matter of who takes fewer hits.

Elliot: Hey, Lindsay. Oh. Don't worry. He's not allowed to talk.
Lindsay: Is that true?
Elliot: You may nod.
Dr. Cox: [nods and groans]
Elliot: Nuh-uh. Bup-bup. You know, Lindsay, when I was 15, I cut my own bangs. Oh, that's right, Percival, it's a high school hair story. Anyway, Judy Keenan told me that she would also cut her hair off. It was like a suicide pact, only with bangs. I cut off my hair, and of course, she backed out. But even though my bangs looked horrible, I kept them that way, mostly because those stupid bangs were the only thing in my life that I felt I had control over. You know?
Lindsay: I'm so tired of everyone telling me what to do. When to be home, what to wear, when to take my medicine. I mean, I'm the one who's sick, right? I can handle my own life.
Elliot: How about I tell your parents that from now on the prescriptions for your medicine will be given directly to you. You'll be in charge of getting your Dilantin, taking it, everything.
Lindsay: Thank you.
Elliot: Great. [to Dr. Cox] I don't have a ring, but you can kiss my ass.

Janitor: Feared in gray beautiful in blue. Feared in gray beautiful in blue.
Ted: I'm gonna grab a fry... some ketchup. Ah. It's cold.
Janitor: That's it. [changes uniform] I'm back.

J.D.: Who do you think you're talking to? You think you've been the world's greatest husband? Please. I was there when you were flirting with your ex-girlfriend and neglected to tell her you were married. I was there when you tried to hook up with that waitress the day before you got engaged. And I was definitely there when you hooked up with that nasty-ass stripper at Boobies, Boobies, Boobies.
Turk: That wasn't me. That was you.
J.D.: I know, but I told her my name was Turk. Look, the point is, think of the millions of times you've chosen not to hang out with your wife 'cause you were trying to hang out with me. You know, maybe it's time you started acting like a real husband instead of acting like some sort of crazy cowboy.
Turk: A cowboy?
J.D.: I don't know. It just came to me. You know I'm right, Turk.

Dr. Cox: Just tell me. How did you know what was bothering her? Tell me now so that we don't have to talk anymore. Ever.
Elliot: How is it that no man understands that every woman, whether she's 16 or 60, still has that awkward, insecure, self-conscious teenage girl inside of her?
[later:]
J.D.: [v.o.] A lot of the time, the answer is about sacrifice.
Dr. Cox: Hey. Look, I was thinking maybe maybe you'd rather just stay in tonight you know, have some pizza, watch watch some movies. What do you say? Are you trying to smile? You're so damn cute.

J.D.: [v.o.] Sometimes sacrifice is only wearing your new uni when you're not at work.
Janitor: Ok, how about this one? "We just wanna wet our beaks" [laughs] No? Sorry, Dan. You tell one.

J.D.: [v.o.] But ultimately, big or small, sacrifice is about doin' something you really don't want to do.
J.D.: Hey, guys, I know we talked about this before, but I'm movin' out.
Carla: Really?
J.D.: Yeah. You guys need your space.
Turk: Wow. Thanks, man.
J.D.: You're gonna miss me, though.
Elliot: Hey, you could turn his room into a gym.
Turk: We ain't puttin' no gym in my media room.
Carla: Whose media room?
Turk: Our media room.

J.D.: But, hey, thanks for taking the hit on this one.
Carla: Me?! Nuh-uh. Nuh-uh. You're his best friend. All you have to do is say, "I'm sorry," high-five him, and go, "Ah!"
J.D.: But all you have to do is have sex with him, and he'll forgive you. If I have sex with him, he'll probably end up madder.