Dr. Kelso: Hey, ace. I want you to find my gardener, Hector, a room. He has a mild case of cellulitis, and I need him in tip-top shape by the weekend. I'm having my annual lawn-bowling tournament, and if anyone but Hector cuts my grass, my game goes to heck in a hand-basket.
Dr. Cox: Dammit all, Bob, you know we don't have an extra bed in this dump.
Dr. Kelso: Perry, what has two thumbs and still doesn't give a crap? Bob Kelso! I thought we'd met.

Carla: You ever think there's more to Dr. Kelso than we know?
Dr. Cox: Sure, is he in fact a latex-encased robot with real human hair and a circuit board where his heart should be? I can't- I can't rule that out.

Elliot: So tell me, is it harder being a surgeon or a doctor?
Dr. Casey: Oh, definitely a surgeon. 'cause when you tell people that a loved one died, you have to do that thing where you pull your surgical mask down and you shake your head. If you do it too fast, it says, you know, I knew he was gonna die. And if you take too long and pause with it, it gives 'em false hope. So you have to do it perfectly. "Ah, damn."
Elliot: If one of my loved ones ever dies, I hope it's because of you.
Dr. Casey: Hey, me too.