Dr. House: I'm waiting for a follow-up.
Dr. Cuddy: If you're talking about Mr. Casdin, he has a deceased sticker on his file. As do all the other follow-ups you have scheduled for today.
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Dr. House: You ever try to pee on yourself in public? It's not easy.
Dr. Taub: Sorry, I rushed the Jewish frat. We peed in private.
Dr. House: For good reason.
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Dr. House: Dammit.
Morgan: Please forgive me, I'm so sorry.
Dr. House: What are you worried about? You may have a night in jail for fraud. I have to go tell one of my employees he's right.
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Morgan: A cat predicted my death.
Dr. House: Cats make terrible doctors. Oh no, wait, that's women. You're screwed.
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(as Morgan follows House)
Dr. House: If you're going to kill me and rape me, please do it in that order.
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Dr. Kutner: Why are you pushing your crash cart?
Dr. House: Because patients sometimes crash, and they haven't invented a crash tractor for me to drive wildly around the hallways.
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Dr. House: Who told you about the test? Taub?
Dr. Cuddy: I'll never say. But yes.
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Dr. House: Hey, look, kids, therapy cat.
Billy: You're a liar. Therapy animals are dogs, not cats.
Dr. House: Aren't you feisty?
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Dr. Wilson: Or, you're starting to give a crap what other people think. Which is just another way of saying you give a crap about other people.
Dr. House: I'd love to hear more of your theory, but I don't give a crap.
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Dr. House: Oh my god, the death cat is attacking your legs. You're going to die.
Dr. Kutner: Maybe it has something to do with that little red dot dancing around down there.
Dr. House: Oh my god, the death laser is attacking your legs. You're going to die.
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Dr. House: Here, puss, puss, puss, puss, puss.
Dr. Foreman: Say "puss" one more time. It's the sixth "puss" that really does it.
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Dr. Wilson: I've gotta stop telling you my theories. You always just try to prove me wrong.
Dr. House: You mean the theory about Cuddy's ass getting bigger during the full moon? I confirmed that one. Photos on my blog.
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