Sean: Agatha Ripp did at least have one point that makes sense. That Bible quote, "Watch out for false prophets, they come to you in sheep´s clothing, but inwardly they are ferocious wolves". That´s what the devil is, you know. Not some obvious Machiavellian figure with horns and a tail but a silent foe disguised as friend. Someone you trust, even love, whom you let into your life only to find out too late they´ve made a shambles of it.

Sean: Call me old fashioned, but I like a girl with a few flaws and a brain.
Christian: And look at where that got you!

Sean: Here is the new world order, Christian. You keep Matt informed on how to minimize orange streaks at spray-on tanning salons, and I'm in charge of all matters concerning his education.

Sean: I know you've slept with some strange types, Christian, but a 50-year-old school principal?
Christian: Put it on my tomb stone. Here lies Christian Troy. He was never predictable.
[Edit]
Christian: There are times I want to feel more May, than September for a change.

Sean: I think you're forgetting how we met. You paid for my tray at the cafeteria and then begged me to tutor you up to a 'B' in microbiology.
Christian: And that tutoring bumped your 'A-' to an 'A', doctor. You have never appreciated my contribution to this partnership.

Sean: So I have your ineptitude to thank?
Christian: No, you have my 10-inch dick to thank. Surgery is the one place where you're more of a man than I am. And you need to be better because somewhere in your twisted brian, you think that's what keeps Julia. So you work hard and you focus. And for all your bullshit about carrying me, you've never been able to leave. You can't do this without me.

Sean: Tell me what you don't like about yourself. [Silence] If I'm going to work on your nose, Christian, I'd like to follow the same procedure we do for all our patients.
Christian: We're not here to talk about my nose, Sean. We're here to talk about what just happened in surgery.
Sean: Nothing happened. There was a minor mishap.
Christian: You call that river of blood minor?
Sean: Unger bucked from a bad anesthesia reaction. It's happened before.
Christian:Your hand palsied again, Sean.
Sean: No, it didn't.
Christian: Bullshit. Whatever this problem is, it's getting worse.
Sean: It's not getting worse.
Christian: So there is a problem.

The Carver: Amazing drug, isn't it? It's a rarefied form of metachurine chloride. They use it on psych patients...causes a kind of 'waking coma'...should wear off in a few minutes...mmm....it's like a plane crash though...a few minutes away to hit the ground can feel like a lifetime. Awful feeling...being totally helpless...having no control...that's how most people spend their lives...slaves to the tyranny of beauty...carb counting, kick-boxing and chemical peels. I'm rescuing them from all that...and you are destroying...my...work. They call me the 'Carver'. You're the 'Carver'. Fifty noses all the same. A thousand flawless breasts. You're the monster carving what's beautiful and real out of life.

The Carver: Beauty is a curse on the world. It keeps us from seeing who the real monsters are.

Young Doctor: [referring to Sean, who's just survived a car accident] Hey, that's my patient!
Christian: And he's my partner and best friend. Why would I leave his mug in your inexperienced hands? I have pubic hair older than you!