— I got a hernia patient to take care of.
— What's his name?
— His name's Hernia Patient. But we've gotten close so I call him Hernia.

— Promise me you'll hold me like this when I push your baby out my bajingo.
— I'm putting on a third condom.

— Guys, listen, we really need to help Elliot.
— She said she doesn't want help.
— If J. D. Were drowning and said he didn't want you to save him, wouldn't you?
— Depends. What if there're hot chicks? Maybe he wants one of them to jump in and save him.
— Say there's no women.
— There's always women at the pool!
— Fine. He's in a pond.
— Oh, I would never swim in a pond. They're infamous for serpents.
— You could swim at the Y, men only. Have you been on man night?
— Not me.
— Fine! Turk's the one who's drowning!
— So now a brother can't swim.
— Why do you have to go there?
— Oh, my God! I would rather play Jiggly Ball than try to explain this to you two idiots.

— Son, have you used drugs in the last 48 hours?
— Oh, no, sir. Never use drugs.
— Because this shot you're about to get could kill you — if mixed with narcotics.
— Oh, drugs. Yes, sir, all the time.

Percival Cox: — After shooting my mouth off the other night, I've been feeling a lot of...
Jordan: — Guilt.
Percival Cox: — No. Not that.
John Dorian: — Guilt?
Percival Cox: — Yes, that. I don't like her to be right.

Dr. Dorian! I'm far too irritable right now to pretend I don't hate you.

Now, you went to four years of college and four years of medical school, so I can safely presume that you are at least eight.

— Janitor? Have you ever looked at yourself and wished that you were different in every single way?
— No... I'm a winner.

— Dr Kelso, none of my patients have died today.
— Really? Mr Ferguson's corpse begs to differ.

You ask me if I have a god complex? I am god!

— Doug! Why are you hitting me?
— I thought you were dead, coming back to life!
— Then why were you hitting me?
— Dead people should be dead!

— So, how are my girls today? Fantastic. Listen...
— If you're here to do one of your "How are my girls today, now let me tell you some things you don't want to hear" routines, I'm in a mood, so it's probably in your best interes to make up some lame excuse and leave.
— Young lady, I will not be spoken to like that. Luckily for you, I have to go see Miss Fitzstrafoler.

That's tough there, Barbie! That was one potent combination of verbal diarrhea and stunned silence.

— Who left this urine here?
— Someone's got a secret admirer.

— Just a club soda, I'm driving.
— It's an open bar, cutie.
— Give me a bucket of Scotch.

— She's pregnant! You're supposed to tell her what she wants to hear.
— Yeah, like remember when Carla was preggers and we all told her how beautiful she was, even though she looked like George Lopez?