Dr. Cox: Three admissions in six months for stress related issues? Really? Well, here's what I want you to do. Stop. Getting. Worked up. Over. Again, over. Small. Things. They're everywhere. This stuff that's making you goofy, it's all over. Stop that. Get him out of here. Dear God.
Boon: Here's your coffee, Dr. Cox.
Dr. Cox: You want me to grab that, even though I suspect the reason that you're holding the handle is because the mug itself is scolding hot. Now, I sent you out to get me some Joe, not to give me a burn. Put the coffee down. Get out. Get out. Go! Go! Go! Go! Go!
Elliot: Wow!
Dr. Cox: Yes, you. Questions? Comments?
Elliot: You do realize that you just told the patient to reduce stress and then yelled at an intern over coffee?
Dr. Cox: You are going to be a huge help when it comes time to write my memoirs.

J.D.: Anyway, you want to know what the cherry on top on the crap Sundae that is my life? Tomorrow, my loser brother's coming here. Not happy.
Turk: Dude, you need some perspective. This guy came in for a simple spinal fusion. He got septic and there was nothing we could do. Do you still want to complain because you're brother's coming in today?
J.D.: Uh. Tomorrow. Dan's coming tomorrow.
[The horrifically mutilated patient sits up, revealing it's Dan. He starts stretching behind J.D.'s back]
Turk: No, actually, he's coming in today. He gave me a call, asked me if I'd help him with some embarrassing prank he wanted to pull on you.
J.D.: Thanks for the warning, Turk. You're a good friend.
Turk: I am!
[J.D. notices a crowd of people watching behind the window]
J.D.: Why are they all here?
Dan: Zombie!
J.D.: [screams]

Ted: Hey, if you're gonna drive that gas guzzler, the least you can do is car pool.
Janitor: Hey, I don't see you bringing anybody to work.
Ted: Hey, I just dropped my mom off at the mall. She sits on the seat and then holds on by tucking her hands inside my bike shorts.
Janitor: That's disgusting.
Ted: Yeah. Doesn't feel right.