Eddie: ...By taking our daughter to dinner.
Catherine: Get over here.
Eddie: Come on, what? What?
Catherine: Just so pathetic.
Eddie: What?
Catherine: Just so pathetic.
Eddie: Watch it, Cath.
Catherine: Sucking up to our daughter 'cause I caught you robbing me.
Eddie: The only thing I ever robbed you of was good sex.
Catherine: No sex is worth you and you are not taking my daughter to a club with one of your music whores.
Eddie: Oh they are whores? When I met you, you were taking your clothes off in a strip club.
Catherine: It was a job Ed and it supported you just like every job I had, including this one.
Eddie: And who paid you to close up your nose?

Eddie: When are we going to talk about what happened?
'Catherine: What's to talk about? You cheated on me. I caught you.

Evans: [Pointing to an exotic dancer on stage] You dressed like that?
Catherine: If you want to call it dressed.

Frank: So, you're the Grissom they wrote about in the newspaper? I thought you'd be older.
Grissom: Why did you contact me, Mr. Damon?
Frank: Arson specialist gave me your name. Well, six of them, actually. They all turned my case down. Will you help me?
Grissom: Fires are very complicated.
Frank: It wasn't too complicated for the guy who put me in here. (Grissom stares at him for a moment) You think if you stare at me long enough, you can tell if I'm innocent?
Grissom: I don't mean to stare ... but, yes, I can learn some things. For instance, the back of your hands are smooth. You read a lot. You have indentation marks on your nose from reading glasses. Your speech tells me that you're well-educated. Your occupation's not listed in the file, but I think that you had a white-collar job.
Frank: (nods) Paper-pusher for the phone company.

Frank: You're not going to help me?
Grissom: I'll take your case. I don't know whether I'll help you or not.
Frank: Now, if there was gasoline in our closet someone else put it there. Find them. Grissom: I don't chase criminals, Mr. Damon. I just evaluate evidence.

Greg: '[about Kristy's shirt] Now, I've done this procedure on jeans and leather jackets but never on something like this. It's very see through. Very Jennifer Lopez.
Nick: Down boy.
Greg: It's going to be a tough one to prove. This is only step one. You see, when a person talks saliva naturally comes out of their mouth. Let's say that we're tossing the hog back and forth, right? [as he talks the camera makes note of the saliva that comes out of his mouth naturally in illustration of what he just said] What can you tell me about the hottie that goes inside this blouse, huh? Is it true she's a friend of yours?
Nick: What, is it on the internet?
Greg: Might as well be. Just remember that. My saliva is getting on you, your saliva is getting on me.
Nick: Gross. [Greg grabs a spray pump and sprays it on the paper] What's that stuff?
Greg: Starch and iodine. If this is saliva, we're going to get the old dalmatian effect. So, Nick, uh, if I wanted to meet this friend of yours...?
Nick: No.
Greg: Figured. [Greg sprays the paper] That's a pretty big spot. That's more than just a spray. In fact, looks like a distinct glob of spit.
Nick: Then Kristy was telling the truth. But it doesn't mean it was the security guard's spit.
Greg: Step three.
Nick: I'm going to need a sample.
Greg: Well, the guy knows he did it. He's not going to cough it up.
Nick: If you saw the girl that went with this blouse...you'd try.

Greg: I am the man.
Warrick: Why, what'd you do? Let me guess, you ran a DNA profile on the blood from the dead guy's knuckles and you got a match?
Greg: No.
Grissom: You ran a DNA profile and something very distinctive popped up?
Greg: Not quite.
Warrick: You made it out of bed and you dressed yourself?
Greg: ...no.

Greg: I've got to warn you, oral swabs don't always read right. Vaginal swabs? No problem. Anal swabs? Money.
Nick: Anal swabs?
Greg: Anal swabs.

Greg: Skeletal muscle of Mel Bennett. It goes in... contents come out. In 30 seconds.. bioassay. I like saying that word. Bioassay. Sounds nubian.

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: 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: 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.