J.D.: Well, you know that means a lot coming from you, Mr. Right-here-with-me two-hours-after-his-shift- and-last-Monday-night-too guy.
Dr. Cox: What?
J.D.: You heard me.
Dr. Cox: Newbie, what're you saying? That you want to be like me? Do you understand that I just barely want to be like me?

J.D.: Something's going down.
Dr. Cox: Alright, bring it in here, you knuckleheads. Take a knee if you need to, you confoundits. I have been on since midnight, so I stand here with my usual contempt for all of you, but with the added wrinkle of having 13 cups of Nurse Robert's piss-poor excuse for coffee passing pretty much straight through me. The not-so-hidden message being, of course, that if you screw up today, I'm going to hit you hard and fast.

J.D.: [v.o.] Childbirth has been so romanticised. I guess because if people knew the truth...
[fantasy: a public information video from the '50s:]
Narrator: [v.o.] Congratulations! You're expecting. Don't worry, your doctor will tell you everything you need to know. Hi, doctor.
J.D.: You'll fart, pee, puke and poop in front of ten complete strangers who'll be staring intently at your vagina, which, by the way, has an 80% chance of tearing.
Woman: You do it.
[reality:]
J.D.: [v.o.] Still, no matter what the realities, the end result is always the same.
J.D.: Oh, look at the baby.
Male Doctor: [with narrator's voice] It's a bouncing baby boy. Yet another soldier in the fight against Communism!

J.D.: [v.o.] Still, there are some traditions I enjoy. Like Nurse Tisdale's 9.15 cup of coffee.
[fantasy: Nurse Tisdale walking towards J.D. in a bikini]
Elliot: Carla, what time is it?
Carla: Oh, I don't know but I'm guessing it's about 9.15 ish.
J.D.: Oh, this thing! Who put this up?
Janitor: I did. I drove round the whole city before my 5am shift, just looking for that. Trying to add a little cheer. [laughs] You will not ruin my Christmas. Not again. Not this year.
J.D.: I've only worked here for three months.

Dr. Cox: [groaning]
Elliot: Dr. Cox.
Dr. Cox: And there you are.
Elliot: Excuse me?
Dr. Cox: I was just now wondering if there's anything that could push my headache into a full-blown migraine.
And there you are.

Carla: You better watch it, Bambi. You don't want a 100lb white girl mad at you. You'll flinch every time you hear a Range Rover.

Dr. Kelso: So, I have been looking at Dr. Benson's chart. His chest x-ray was normal, his vitals are stable, so let's discharge him.
Dr. Cox: Well, now hold the phone there, skipper. Now, Dr. Benson should be able to stay here until he feels he's ready to go. I mean, give me a break, he was only Chief of Medicine for ten years.
Dr. Kelso: Well, I haven't had my coffee yet, so I'm finding it hard coming up with a more colorful way to say "Who gives a crap?" Actually, that wasn't half bad.

Turk: Listen, if Dr. Kelso wants me to be a role model for the community because I'm a great doctor, then that's great and I will sign on the dotted line. But that's not what this is about. All my life I've been singled out because I'm black.
[flashback to young Turk winning a school science fair:]
Young Turk: But I didn't even enter the contest!
Man: Smile for the picture.
[present:]
Turk: Remember our college brochure?
J.D.: So what? They put you on the cover.
Turk: Twice?!

Elliot: Since your jaw is wired shut, we're going to give you IV nutrition for a couple of days, OK? Oh, sorry, you can't answer. It's like going to the dentist. I hate when they ask you questions and you have that stuff in your mouth, don't you? Oh, my God, I did it again. Dr. Greenberg. Doctor? What kind of doctor are you? I keep doing it. Okay, okay. Just act it out. Head? Shrinking. A shrink! You're a shrink. Wow, I can't imagine picking psychiatry as a specialty after interning as a real doctor. That didn't come out right. It's just my dad. He's a doctor too. He says therapy is for people with more money than problems. But then my dad says a lot of things.
Nurse: Did anyone page a nurse?
Elliot: No.
Nurse: It looks like his eyes are screaming.
Elliot: Please, we're talking. Where was I?

Mrs. Tanner: You're gonna have to shut your mouth at some point. Sweetie, I'm 74 years old. I'm ready to go.
J.D.: Yeah, but with dialysis you could live another 80 or 90 years.
Mrs. Tanner: I think you're being a little irrational.
J.D.: No, I'm not.
Mrs. Tanner: Everybody dies some time.
J.D.: No, they don't.