Greg: So, how many grains of sand in the ocean, huh?
Nick: I don't care about the ocean, just the sand in my skeleton. Can you pinpoint a beach?
Greg: I don't know. I might have to do some field research to find out. You think Grissom would let me go to Hawaii? (Nick sees Grissom in the doorway)
Nick:(to Greg) Why don't you ask him yourself?
Grissom: Ask me what?
Greg: Oh, nothing. I, uh ... I was just telling Nick about your sand. Well, it's not sand. It's not natural anyway. Here, check this out. (Grissom looks through the mircoscope at the sand) Now, if this were natural sand, the surface would be smooth. This looks more like Fremont Street on a Saturday night... rough.
Nick: Could the particles be sediment from the concrete where we found her?
Greg: No. No way. I analyzed the mineral content. It's feldspar and quartz. That's crushed gray sandstone. It's man-made, in a rock crusher.
Nick: What does that mean?
Grissom: It means she wasn't killed in Hawaii. (Greg freezes when he realized Grissom heard him before) Other than that, he has no idea. (Nick laughs)

Greg: So, the French Palace, huh?
Catherine: Yup.
Greg: You know, my friends and I used to go there. Payday Fridays.
Catherine: Uh-huh.
Greg: Maybe I saw you perform?
Catherine:(sighs) Oh, I doubt it.
Greg: Why?
Catherine': You would've remembered. (Greg looks absolutely stunned)

Greg: So, what's the pot up to?
Nick: We don't bet on cases.
Greg: Ah, of course you don't...So who's winning?
Nick and Warrick: I am.
Greg: Fiends.

Greg: Spontaneous toilet combustion?
Sara (laughs): Or a college prank.

Greg: Squirrels love 'em ... they get tossed at Dodger Stadium and they make a hell of a butter.
Sara: You're nuts. You know that.
Greg: Exactamundo. Peanuts!

Greg: That means she slept with a dead guy. She's not only a killer she's a necrophiliac. That's what I call enjoying your work.
[They review the tape some more]
Sara: She's trashed. Maybe she passed out.
Greg: How drunk do you have to be to sleep next to a decomposing body? The smell alone is an alarm clock.
Sara: Not next to him, on top of him.

Greg: The gods of CODIS have blessed us with a hit.

Greg: There's, uh, something weird going on with the hairs from the ropes. Well, not weird. More like...hair-raising. (Grissom doesn't smile or laugh) Sorry, bad one.

Greg: Well, this is one way to get her DNA. Bring me her whole life.
Sara: It's called zeal, Greg.
Greg: Or overkill.
Grissom: It's called protocol. Let's get on with it.

Greg: What are you doing?
Grissom: Good you're here. (throws a cup at him) Fill this up for me will ya?
Greg: With what?
Grissom: It's a urine specimen cup, Greg. What do ya think?
Greg: (scoffs) Okay.
(A little later Greg comes back with the cup filled)

Greg: What's Grissom doing?
Warrick: He's trying to find a missing boat.
Greg: And let me guess, Catherine got bored?
Warrick: Well you know Grissom, the shortest distance between two points is science. For Catherine, it's pounding the pavement.

Greg: You know, most dogs have 42 teeth but, as you've discovered, your Cujo only has 41. Woof-woof.
Grissom: Did you ever hear a dog say "woof-woof," Greg? I mean, what is the origin of that? And what do we sound like to them, I wonder.
Greg: I don't know. Probably blah, blah, blah.

Greg: You smell like death.
Sara: I've heard.
Greg: You know ... a real man wouldn't mind.

Greg: Your vehicle was painted Sarasota Silver. Also, only available on the S-Series '99 models. I checked with the Mercedes State Rep. Five were sold in Nevada. Sara's tracking down the owners.
Grissom: You've, uh, already shared this information with Sara?
Greg: Yeah, an hour ago. And she was way more fascinated than you are.
Grissom: Well, I'm somewhat fascinated by the fact that I'm your boss, but you talked to her first.
Greg: Well, you were at dinner.
Grissom: I've been in the lab all day, Greg.

Greg:(Looking at Nick's sperm) Nick's little soldiers.