Dexter: Regardless of how we got here, one of the two killers in this cabin has to go away.
Doakes: I am not a killer.
Dexter: Right. In terms of who goes, it boiled down to a philosophical question: which one of us has more inherent worth?
Doakes: I know you're fucking kidding me.
Dexter: First I considered our value to the community. That was a wash. We're both loyal civil servants, we work hard to keep the city clean.
Doakes: ... You cut people up into little pieces ...
Dexter: Then I looked at our personal lives, and ... well, it's where the differences became clearer. Strange as it may seem, I have people who depend on me. They would be devastated if they found out what I do. You, Sergeant, you're more of a lone wolf. Easier to put down, no one in the pack to miss you.
Doakes: Fuck you. Fuck you, Morgan, I have a family. I have my mother, my sisters.
Dexter: Who you never visit. Puts a pit in my stomach, that I can only interpret as ... sadness. If you had a personal life, you might not have made me your obsession, and we might not be here right now.

Dexter: Rita will be devastated if I'm arrested. Her husband was a crack-head and her boyfriend's a serial killer. It's kinda hard not to take that personally.

Dexter: Rita's pregnant.
Debra: Say again?
Dexter: Rita's pregnant.
Debra: You're lying.
Dexter: I'm not lying.
Debra: A baby? A mother-fucking rolly-polly chubby-cheeked shit machine, are you kidding me?
Dexter: I've never heard it described in quite those words before, but yeah.

Dexter: Rituals are important. Not only for a serial killer, but also for a two-year-old if you want him to go to bed on time. Not that I mind. This ritual has become my favorite. Bedtime, alone with my son. Being myself.

Dexter: Roger the Artful Dodger.
Roger: Jesus! You scared me, bro.
Dexter: We have some unfinished business.
Roger: Oh, yeah, right, the warranty and stuff. Listen, uh, I can't write you up right now, I've got the wife waiting for me.
Dexter: You're not married.
Roger: Ex-wife. I gotta take the kids.
Dexter: You don't have kids.
Roger: Step-kids. They're hers.
Dexter: Nope.
Roger: Okay, how about this one � I don't give a shit.
[Dexter starts choking Roger]
Dexter: Neither do I.

Dexter: Roger's DNA matches the semen found at both crime scenes. Irrefutable. If I do nothing, then another woman dies. Is that my long, dormant conscience talking, or the Dark Passenger whispering?

Dexter: So this is doom. I've been the architect of so much of it, it's only fair that I should know what the fuss is all about. He left me this room for a reason. Five women gave their blood, their lives for this moment. There's only one way to find out why.

Dexter: Some gangs earn teardrops of blood by killing. I understand � we all need our keepsakes. One man's tattoos are another man's blood slides.

Dexter: Still, it can't be easy to hide a body nowadays.
Masuka: Are you shitting me?
Dexter: Hypothetical. You're the Bay Harbor Butcher. How do you make sure that disposed bodies stay disposed?
Masuka: Tons of options. Everglades. Alligators. Pig farms. Sulphuric acid. Woodchipper. Incinerator. Hell, even meat pies.

Dexter: Studies show that emotional intelligence plays a greater role in individual success than anything that can be measured on the standard IQ test.
Debra: Are you calling me an emotional idiot?
Dexter: If you're an idiot, then I'm a vegetable.

Dexter: That girl's gonna need more than crayons to set her world right. Killing Little Chino would restore my world, too. But only if the Code of Harry is satisfied.

Dexter: That was awkward. I don't think I've ever been asked to leave a funeral before.
Rita: Ramon didn't ask you to leave � he pushed you out the door. He's just so angry.
Dexter: He's lost two brothers. He doesn't know whom to blame.
Rita: Certainly not you.
Dexter: [voiceover] No, certainly not me.

Dexter: The FBI estimates that there are less that 50 serial killers active in the United States today. We don't get together at conventions, share trade secrets, or exchange Christmas cards ... but sometimes I wonder what it's like for the others.

Dexter: The Ice-Truck Killer drains the blood from his victims, freezes the bodies, and only then severs their limbs. It's clean and efficient, that's his psychological signature. Neil Perry, on the other hand, stuffs roadkill.
Debra: Yeah! And turns 'em into fucked up fantasy shit.
Dexter: But the fantasies are all wrong! The guy we're looking for wouldn't turn dead dirty things into living cartoons, he'd find that pathetic.
Debra: How do you know?
Dexter: [pause] Because it is pathetic.

Dexter: The voices are back. Excellent.