Carla: Baby. What's going on with you.
Turk: Ever since I got this thing I've been joking around about it, sneaking cookies, and hiding from it. All because I'm scared to ask myself the questions: Is it gonna get worse? Or are our kids gonna have it? Or how old am I gonna be when it finally gets me? You don't understand.
Carla: I don't understand? Turk, look at me. I'm a WOD.
Turk: I keep trying to tell you this, but it's the mirror in the bathroom, baby. You haven't gained a pound since I met you.
Carla: No, I'm a WOD. Wife Of Diabetic. That's what they call us in all the diabetic chat rooms. I spend a lot of time on the computer, talking about how proud I am of my husband and how he's handling this. How he's able to make jokes about it - and money. It's okay to be afraid, I am. But I have to tell you, I don't know what I would do if you suddenly became someone who let something own you.

[J.D. is in a dumpster with his scooter after accidentally riding through the hospital after he received a phone call while driving:]
J.D.: Whoever this is, you are not gonna believe what just happened to me.
Janitor: [on the phone] No, I believe it. It was cool.
J.D.: Janitor! Ambrosia.

J.D.: Elliot diagnosed Mrs. Kasuba, not me.
Dr. Cox: I know. And your guilty anguish is... It's delicious. It's like a little mini-meal between lunch and dinner. Quite frankly, it's all I can do not to grind pepper on your head.
J.D.: I don't get it. When did she become a better doctor than me?
Dr. Cox: Probably during one of those countless times you were goofing off?
J.D.: Hey, as soon as I step foot in this hospital, I'm all business.
[flashback to outside the hospital:]
J.D.: Good morning, Dr. Cox. From the world's most giant doctor.
[present:]
J.D.: Well, that was outside the hospital. Plus, Elliot was the legs. Sure, she's skinny, but she's thick through the trunk.