- Gil Grissom: That took a long time. You may need a prostate exam.
- Greg Sanders: My prostate is just fine!
- Sara Sidle: I don't have a death wish, and I'm not a drunk. In case you were worried.
- Gil Grissom: I'm not worried. I'm concerned.
- Mr. Durbin: Sons of bitches! I'm gonna sue your ass into the ground. I hope you know that. Yeah. I'm gonna own you. I'm gonna own this whole place. In fact, maybe that's where I'll live. I'm just gonna move in here.
- Greg Sanders: What are you doing?
- Gil Grissom: Good, your here.
- [tosses him a plastic cup]
- Gil Grissom: Fill this up for me, will ya.
- Greg Sanders: With what?
- Gil Grissom: It's a urine specimen cup, Greg, what do you think?
- Greg Sanders: [looks at the cup again]
- [pauses]
- Greg Sanders: Okay.
- Dr. Al Robbins: [as Dr. Al Robbins performs the autopsy on the body found in the drain, Greg Sanders' first] In the end, it's all we really are.
- [Greg's first autopsy]
- Gil Grissom: Take a look at the trachea. What do you see?
- Greg Sanders: Foam... like the head of a beer.
- [Grissom looks at him]
- Greg Sanders: Sorry.
- Gil Grissom: No. It's a good analogy.