Dr. Cox: All right, who can tell me anything about Mr. Pierce?
Keith: He uses an oil heater at his house in New Hampshire.
Dr. Cox: That answer was either very sarcastic or very stupid. Either way, I'm whacking you with my clipboard. Brace yourself.
Keith: Wait. He's hypoxic, with a clear chest x-ray, which can be a sign of carbon monoxide poisoning. I learned that watching House.
Lisa: House is a genius.
Dr. Cox: That's it, I'm whacking both of you. Look, I know you all curl up on your futons at night dreaming of cracking a real life medical mystery so that some doctor/supermodel will want to touch your eruption button. But, here's the bad news: this isn't a TV show. There aren't any cameras over here. Real medical mysteries don't happen every week. And doctors damn sure don't look like models. They look like Rex.
Rex: What?
Dr. Cox: Chin up, you ugly bastard. So if you wanna solve a real mystery, go ahead and figure out who's taking my New York Times every Sunday. Or better yet, how about why anybody on the planet actually thinks Dane Cook is funny. As far as Mr. Pierce goes, he has run-of-the-mill pulmonary embolism and I know, I know, it is a boring medical diagnosis. But that's what hospitals are. Boring.

Dr. Kelso: Dr. Reid, I thought I would just stop in and say goodbye.
Elliot: Why? I'll still be working here.
Dr. Kelso: Yes, but you won't be working for Sacred Heart, the place that spent a fortune training you only to have you take off for greener pastures. You're like a prostitute that gets paid upfront and then bolts from the restaurant after dinner. It's about common courtesy, Reid, either to your boss or to a kind-hearted john who's given you a lot business over the years. So goodbye, Miss Mei Ling of Gentle Oriental Escort, and goodbye, Dr. Reid. I won't be speaking to either of you ever again.

Dr. Cox: You usually have to go to a van convention to see art of this quality. You do.
Janitor: I've got to confess though, I cheated a little bit. I used an actual head from the morgue as a model. Be careful, it's actually around here somewhere.
[The Janitor knocks a paint can, which lands on Dr. Cox's foot, sending him crashing to the ground]
Dr. Cox: [groans] I think I heard something break.
Janitor: Here we go. [gives business car]
Dr. Cox: Podiatrist?!?
Janitor: I also buy and sell feet, so anyway you wanna go, I got you covered.
Dr. Cox: Great.
[Dr. Cox notices yellow and red paint mixing together]

Turk: Hey, Elliot, are you gonna finish that muffin? [off her look] Why are you so pissy with us?
J.D.: Why is Sarah dying?
Carla: Why is that guy orange?
J.D.: [v.o.] Around here, sometimes you do wish it was more like TV. And a bigger than life character like House would just show up and conveniently solve everything.
[Dr. Cox walks into the coffee house with the aid of a cane:]
Dr. Cox: Ah, yes, the huddled masses. Carla! I see you're trying one of this establishment disgusting new tomato muffins. Do you know who else just loved tomatoes? Our little orange friends, Mr. Mehleison. As you correctly pointed out, the only thing he loved more than tomatoes are carrots. And if carrots turn you yellow and tomato turn you red, what color would he most likely turn if he would have gorged himself on both those items?
Carla: Orange.
Dr. Cox: Correct.

Dr. Cox: And Gandhi, I understand that you are confused as to why Private Practice Barbie has a beef with you and your scrawny little life partner.
Dr. Kelso: Kelso is the one being a jerk, not us.
Dr. Cox: Yes, but even though that horny old raisin is acting like an ass, in doing so, he's actually acknowledging that she's ready to move on professionally. Guess who hasn't acknowledged that?
[flashback:]
Turk: Nothing's gonna change but your lab coat.
[present:]
Elliot: He's right. I mean lately all this great stuff has been happen to you guys. You're settling down and having a baby.
Dr. Cox: Dear god, Barbie, we get the point. This would roughly be my time.

Dr. Cox: Now, Newbie, as far as your patient is concerned. Takosubo cardiomyopathy, ever heard of it?
J.D.: I haven't.
Dr. Cox: Takosubo cardiomyopathy, also known as "Broken Heart Syndrome", is when a severe emotional trauma triggers a weakening of the heart muscle. On her chart, you indicate that she was single, yet I noticed that she was still wearing her wedding ring. Turns out her husband had just died and she wasn't ready to take the ring off yet. I'm betting that her grief over his passing is what cause her heart failure. And no, no, I'm not Superman, I'm just Dr. Cox. Thanks for the coffee.
[a musical interlude similar to the House theme plays]

Turk: So you're really cool if Kim decides to take this job?
J.D.: Hell no, man. She's gonna be all the way in Washington. And phone sex is out of the question because I'm a righty when I talk on the phone but I'm also a righty when I'm teaching mini J.D. who daddy is.

Dr. Headrick: She's gonna need a lot more counselling, but we'll get her there. Well, not "we" so much as "me". I mean, your part the bungling of the diagnosis is done.
J.D.: I can't believe you can have a heart failure just from being sad. I mean, how are you supposed to treat that?
[fantasy:]
J.D.: He's coding, get me box of kittens, stat.
[When J.D. drops a box of kittens on the patient, he miraculously wakes up:]
J.D.: Possible side effects of kittens include: sneezing, tiny scratches and erectile dysfunction.
[reality:]
J.D.: Wouldn't I be a great spoke person for things.

J.D.: [v.o.] Speaking of new jobs, I wasn't thrilled that my pregnant girlfriend was offered a research grant in Tacoma. On the upside, I could give her dramatic "don't go" kisses whenever I felt like it.
Kim: Oh, that was hot, stud. But I think it's just my leg that supposed to be up.

J.D.: Hey, there's that baby you stole.
Turk: I kinda miss the little cutie. We really bonded.
J.D.: Oh, come on, that kid doesn't remember you.
[Turk pounds his chest and does the "peace" sign at the baby. The baby repeats the gesture]