Janitor: You responsible for this head blood?
J.D.: Look, here's the bottom line: I am currently in possession of a note that would give me permission to have sex with a very beautiful woman, but I have no way of getting to her apartment.
Janitor: Then what are we waiting for. Get in. Come on! Let's go! Go, go, go, go!
[much later, the Janitor tosses J.D. out of the van in the middle of nowhere:]
J.D.: What are you doing!?
Janitor: It's been four years. How do you not get how this works?

Dr. Molly Clock: Look, I'm sorry, but I'm attracted to damaged, dysfunctional people, and you're just too normal.
J.D.: [v.o.] Sometimes all it takes is a slammin' hottie to make you dig down deep and discover who you really are.
J.D.: My emotional journey began at five years old when I walked in on my parents having sex in a position my father would later playfully describe as "the jackhammer." I have a mentor that verbally abuses me every chance he gets, and no matter how much I try, I can't stop constantly narrating my own life.
J.D.: [v.o.] At that very moment, I feared I had divulged too much.
J.D.: Molly, I'm narcissistic, I'm pessimistic, I'm obsessive, I'm insecure. And I am so afraid of intimacy that every one of my relationships is a journey of self-sabotage that inevitably ends in a black vacuum of shattered expectations and despair.
Dr. Molly Clock: Wow.

Elliot: How was it?
Dr. Molly Clock: Weird. His tongue was freezing.
[meanwhile:]
J.D.: I gave her the ol' ice tongue. It's easy to do, you just have to be really smooth.
[back:]
Dr. Molly Clock: He kept running to the kitchen to put ice on his tongue.
Elliot: I always hated ice tongue. And sometimes his lips seemed so greasy.
[meanwhile:]
J.D.: I'm telling you, Turk. Olive oil.
Turk: Dude, just because it's good on salad doesn't mean it's good on your lips.