Janitor: OK, Teddy. I got this baby flowing now. I don't know if that's good. You should sue Kelso. You have a serious tort on your hands.
Ted: Tort?
Janitor: Civil case. From the French avoir tort.
Ted: Did you go to law school?
Janitor: No. I was Ruth Bader Ginsburg's janitor for a while.
Ted: Ruth Bader who?

J.D.: Dr. Cox?
Dr. Cox: Yeah, Newbie, what do you got?
J.D.: That guy looks fantastic. What do you think he's dying of, a case of the handsomes?

J.D.: [v.o.] Lately, Elliot and her booty call, Keith, loved playing games. Tonight, it was "The Orchard Owner and the Mexican Apple Thief."
Elliot: Confess, Manuel! Confess that you stole these apples.
Keith: I was at the dance with the other pickers.
Elliot: Liar! [Elliot slaps him]
J.D.: [v.o.] Frankly, the whole thing disgusted me.
Elliot: You saw him do it, didn't you, Paco?
J.D.: [v.o.] Mostly because they never let me speak.
J.D.: [exaggerated Mexican accent] He hid them in his pantalones. He loves these apples. He makes apples pie and apples juice with them.
Elliot: Paco, you can't talk because you lost your tongue in that cider press accident, remember? Now, back to the pickers' bunkhouse!
J.D.: I hate the pickers' bunkhouse.
J.D.: [v.o.] And I hate Keith. Which begs the question: Why do I insist on being a part of their foreplay?

Dr. Hendrick: Mrs. Wilk, I'm Dr. Hedrick. Now, it sounds cliched, but you're gonna go through "The Five Stages of Grief," which are: Denial, anger, bargaining, depression and finally, acceptance. Now, I assume that you two have already entered into a conversation with Mrs. Wilk about what the process of dying is gonna be like.
Dr. Cox: We were doing it before you came in.
Dr. Hendrick: Oh, I'm sorry. Then please, continue.
Dr. Cox: All right, we will. Newbie, go.
J.D.: [stammering] Oh, okay. Well, well, yeah. Um... Okay, death is like a journey. Uh, a journey in a boat. And, uh, then this giant light shines down on your "boat" and, uh, carries you up to the heavens.
Dr. Hendrick: That was the ending to Cocoon.
J.D.: Take it away, Coxie.

Carla: You know, Elliot, the four of us should go out to dinner.
Turk: Honey, why are you so obsessed about going out with other couples? Didn't you learn your lesson last week with our neighbors?
[flashback to Turk and Carla sitting around a campfire with another couple:]
Carla: Squirrel chili. Who knew? Ha! It's really good.
[Turk pulls a furry tail out of his container]
Turk: I wanna go home.
Carla: Eat your soup.
Turk: No.
[present:]
Turk: They're not even our neighbors. They live in the woods behind our apartment.
Carla: And we'd be having brunch with them Sunday if you could have choked down the damn tail.

Ted: [coughing] Oh, good, the piles are getting smaller.
Dr. Kelso: Good. That reminds me. Did you get that sand out of his office?
Janitor: Yes, I did, and it cut my commute in half.
[The Janitor has constructed a giant sand castle outside the hospital:]
Janitor: Good morning, loyal subjects. Enjoy your day in Janitoria. Labor until you tire and then labor some more. Looks like rain. That could be a problem.

Ted: Just once, I [spits]... Just once, I wish I could treat Kelso like he treats us.
Janitor: With Kelso, you got no leverage.
Ted: Leverage. Leverage?
Janitor: You don't know what it means, do ya?
Ted: No.

Dr. Hendrick: I understand you spend most of your time fighting death around here, so it's understandable that you're made uncomfortable by this. Now, if you'd like, I'm willing to counsel both of you.
J.D.: [v.o.] I was tempted to take him up, but then Dr. Cox said something.
Dr. Cox: Listen up. We don't need any of your head shrinking.
J.D.: [v.o.] "We!" He said, "we!" After all these years, he's finally made us a team.
J.D.: Yeah, Hedrick. If it was up to us, we never would've even called you. We can handle death just fine. We might even be going into private practice together.
Dr. Cox: What?
J.D.: [v.o.] Easy. Now is not the time to discuss the Dorian-Cox Clinic, much less the relocation to Jacksonville.

Dr. Hendrick: Clearly, I'm pushing some buttons here.
Dr. Cox: You couldn't push my buttons if you tried. In fact, I have no buttons. Please think of me as buttonless, all smooth, like GI Joe's nether regions. And, by the by, this image is brought to you by my son, Jack, who has been yanking the pants off of his toy soldiers and leaving them in provocative positions on my nightstand. It is just disturbing enough so that leaving the house, I'm cranky and less able to suffer fools, which brings me back to you: The fool. I'm done suffering you, so go now. Go. Go, before you can write a book entitled Help! A Large Doctor is Beating My Ass: The Lester Hedrick Story.
Dr. Hendrick: That was a mouthful. Anyway, if you need to talk, just give me a call.
Dr. Cox: He seems strangely impervious to my threats. That annoys me.

Dr. Cox: Can you believe the huevos on that Hedrick? Holy cow. It's like we've never had a patient die on us before. I gotta put this bag in the trunk.
J.D.: [v.o.] I was in the Porsche. I had never made it into the Porsche. It smelled like German heaven. I wasn't gonna blow this opportunity. I had to be careful about every little- Hey, a root beer.
Dr. Cox: Don't open that soda. It has been rolling around the floor for months. It will explode.
J.D.: Apparently, you're not familiar with the John Dorian three-tap method. Three taps and the foam goes bye-bye. [taps, opens can] Works every time.
[The can suddenly explodes, spraying huge amounts of foam for an improbable ten seconds, completely coating the inside of Dr. Cox's windshield and soaking Dr. Cox and J.D.]
J.D.: Ahh! The quickest way to my house is to take Elm.