Dr. Cox: Okay, so young Cole may not be an ideal protégé. He may not even be an ideal human. Nevertheless, you don't get to pick who needs you as a mentor. Do you realize, for the last eight years I've been saddled with a whiny, clingy lady-man whose very life force was dependent on hugs? Now, of course, I have young Drew, and although he may be filled with a bubbling rage that I fear cannot be contained very much longer, at least he doesn't need me to hold his hand when he speaks of love and his true feelings. The point is, we don't always get to choose who deserves and who wants our help. That's it.
Turk: Why you gotta always ruin pastry time? Perfectly good pastry.

Dr. Cox: All right, then. Listen up, murderers. As you know, we are approaching the end of the semester. The ceremony of thanks is quickly approaching.
Turk: That's where you publicly thank the friends and families of the cadavers you've been dissecting this semester.
Dr. Cox: It's actually a pretty sweet deal for them. After their loved ones are stripped for parts like a 1998 Mitsubishi Mirage, we treat 'em to some free cold cuts and a chance to listen to you regurgitate some trite quotes about their family members' sacrifice that you found on the Internet.

Turk: Oh, yeah. Uh, heads up to all you white people out there. Reciting a Maya Angelou poem in an old black lady's voice. Not cool, okay? Cole, I'm talkin' to you. Talkin' to you.

Cole: I don't see what the big deal is. People die in third world countries all the time, and no one cares.
Maya: Since when did you become so political?
Cole: Since my boy Trent went on a surf vacation to El Salvador and got a tattoo infection. He had to die with a partial mermaid on his shoulder. It just looked like a regular stupid lady. Where was his ceremony?

Cole: I'm so psyched about this surgery thing. I already know what I'm gonna call my surgical practice "Cole cutz."
Turk: With a "z"?
Cole: That's right! Man, you gotta knock before you enter Cole's brain.

Drew: Can you believe this? Apparently, there's water damage in the wall or something.
Denise: Yeah, I heard about that. Some guy upstairs cracks his head open in the shower, lies there for four hours, and we gotta pay the price.

Turk: Cole? I totally forgot about you. Have you been standing here all day?
Cole: I don't know. I can't read old people clocks.
Turk: And you haven't moved once, not even to pee?
Cole: Nope. I learned a trick at keggers when there's a long line at the bathroom. Let a little out, let it dry. Little out, let it dry.

Dr. Cox: Didn't I say that he has what it takes to be a surgeon? Beyond the blind sense of entitlement and complete lack of human empathy, there's the empty-headed concentration, the unjustifiable arrogance and the sheer willingness to stand in one place and wet yourself like a zoo elephant. That's awe-inspiring stuff.
Cole: Thank you, Dr. C.!

Turk: I want you to imagine these bears were in a horrible accident. Like a bus crash. And before you ask, no, I don't know why the bears were on a bus. Maybe they're super smart government bears on their way to fight terrorism. Anyway, all you need to do is sew one of these bad boys up before me, and I'll know you have the skills to be a surgeon. Are we clear?
Cole: As a vodka tonic.

Lucy: Dr. Cox, I don't know what I'm gonna do about this ceremony. I had this whole-
Dr. Cox: Da-da-da-da-da-da. No sitting. Can't you see I'm reading a very important chart here?
Lucy: A British tabloid?
Dr. Cox: This chart functions as my shield to protect me from those who would annoy me.
Cole: Hey, Dr. C.
Dr. Cox: Shield on. Oh. See what you've done? You have destroyed the shield-like power of my chart.