"Ah, but here is the smell of blood still, and all the perfumes in Arabia will not sweeten this little room." - Grissom
"What we are never changes, but who we are never stops changing." - Sophia Curtis (former CSI)
Catherine: "Mr and Mrs decomp?"
Greg: "Till death do they retrifuge."
Grissom: "I love it when you wear your gloves!"(to Ecklie)
Grissom: Pica...
Doc Robbins: Boo?
Greg Sanders: [Grissom and Catherine walk in on Greg listening to loud music] Could have been a rock star.
Gil Grissom: [music stops] There's still time, Greg.
Greg Sanders: I'm like a sponge: I just absorb information.
Gil Grissom: I thought that was my line.
Greg Sanders: Yeah - and I absorbed it.
Sara Sidle: Relax and lie down on your back.
Greg Sanders: You know, this is exactly like a dream I had once, except it wasn't in a garage. And Grissom wasn't watching.
[pause]
Greg Sanders: That was a different dream.
(Grissom tries to see which weight would have caused a man to stop breathing if it was on top of him as research into a case, they put a heavy doll on top of Greg and increase the weight until he nearly stops breathing :/ .)
Nick Stokes: So, can you tell me where the sand came from?
Greg Sanders: I might have to do some field research to find out. You think Grissom would send me to Hawaii?
********************************************************
Greg Sanders: It's not real sand. It's finely crushed granite.
Nick Stokes: What does that mean?
Gil Grissom: It means she wasn't killed in Hawaii. Other than that, he has no idea
Greg Sanders: This is just like that Edgar Allan Poe story where the victim's heart under the floorboards betrays the murder.
Gil Grissom: "The Tell-Tale Heart". I thought you didn't like reading the classics.
Greg Sanders: I do when they're about dismembered bodies.
(It's an amazing book, I reccomend it to all.)
Sara Sidle: You sucked at team sports, huh?
Greg Sanders: I was captain of the high school chess squad.
Greg Sanders: [Nick is in the room next door to where the dead body is when Greg finds him] You, uh, do know the crime scene's in the next room. I always look for the yellow tape.
Gil Grissom: Make sure you document these skid marks
[walks away]
Greg Sanders: [laughs and says under his breath] He said skid marks.
Gil Grissom: So, lets see. You surf, you scuba dive. You're into latex, you like fashion models and Marilyn Manson. And you also have a coin collection?
Greg Sanders: Weird, huh?
Gil Grissom: Well, I race cockroaches.
(I also enjoy Marilyn Manson. He rules!!)
Catherine Willows: Tough shift.
Greg Sanders: You did say "shift", right?
Greg Sanders: So, are you going to say, "The game's afoot"?
Gil Grissom: I didn't know you were a Conan Doyle fan, Greg.
Greg Sanders: I'm not. I saw a Sherlock Holmes movie once, by mistake.
Gil Grissom: Well just so you know, those movies never ended like this.
Nick Stokes: And how does your theory account for the fact that all the blood's Ryan's?
Greg Sanders: It... doesn't.
Greg Sanders: Come hither!
Sofia Curtis: What's the problem?
Greg Sanders: I'm fine.
Sofia Curtis: You're not.
Greg Sanders: I feel like a wuss. Grissom told me I should take a break, and I did.
Sofia Curtis: Your burn victim.
Greg Sanders: How do you get an image like that out of your mind?
Sofia Curtis: You go home. You, ah, hug your cat, your dog, your pillow. You have a beer, you watch a movie, and then you come back tomorrow.
Greg Sanders: Is that supposed to make me feel better?
Sofia Curtis: Rumor has it you used to be a pretty funny guy. Don't lose that.
(please never lose that greg!)
Gil Grissom: It's been 24 minutes, Greg. When's this thing going to be done?
Greg Sanders: Well, with all due respect, sir, it's not a baked potato.
Greg Sanders: 99 bottles of beer on the wall, 99 bottles of beer. You swab one down and run it through CODIS, 98 bottles of beer on the wall.
Nick Stokes: What ever happened to 'take one down pass it around'? That's the best part.
Greg Sanders: You know, us labrats have to do something to get through the day.
[Greg works on live maggots in a container with a scotch tape along its edges]
Catherine Willows: What's with the tape?
Greg Sanders: The evidence wasn't cooperating, so I stuck it to them.
Catherine Willows: [smiling] Cute...
Greg Sanders: I would never doubt your word.
Catherine Willows: Smart man.
Greg Sanders: I'm afraid I don't have time for your humour, Ecklie has a multiple, Warrick tells me his home invasion is top of the heap and I'm still backed up with Catherine's no suspect rape. It's like one servant many masters, you know what I'm saying?
Gil Grissom: Greg, this is your DNA lab. You are the master. We serve you.
Greg Sanders: Your stuff just moved to the top of the pile.
Greg Sanders: Cath? Your DNA results are back. According to my DNA data, the chances are 814 quadrillion to one - that your suspect is our killer. Pretty good stats...
Catherine Willows: Yeah, considering there are only six billion people in world.
Hodges: You know what makes bones glow?
Greg Sanders: Love?
Greg Sanders: [after Grissom tells him that he has to work dayshift because they're shorthanded] Why can't days keep anybody?
Gil Grissom: Money, stress, Ecklie... maybe.
(most likely Ecklie...) (-_-)
Sara Sidle: You didn't beep me for a magic trick.
Greg Sanders: Swami doesn't do magic tricks, Swami is here to reveal all your DNA secrets
Sara Sidle: I'm very busy Greg.
Gil Grissom: Question. You come home, see your husband lying in the driveway, what do you do?
Greg Sanders: ...Is that a trick question?
Gil Grissom: What am I thinking?
Greg Sanders: That I'm due for a promotion?
Gil Grissom: That you should focus on your other five senses...
Gil Grissom: There is always a clue.
Hodges: I didn't page you.
Nick Stokes: No. I just figured I'd come by.
Hodges: You're checking up on me again.
Nick Stokes: No, I'm checking up on my evidence.
Hodges: Do you think if you hover the FTIR will work faster?
Nick Stokes: Yes, Hodges, that's what I think.
Nick Stokes: Is there anything you won't bet on, man?
Warrick Brown: Nah.
Gil Grissom: I can't tell whether he's brilliant or nuts.
Captain Jim Brass: Sound familiar?
(sounds like Grissom...)
Sara Sidle: Dead body! Bonus.
[Grissom admits to a mistake]
Gil Grissom: What?
Nick Stokes: Well, it's just that most people don't admit to being wrong.
Gil Grissom: I'm wrong all the time. It's how I get to "right".
Catherine Willows: Never doubt. Never look back. That's how I live my life.
Gil Grissom: I admire that.
Dr. Al Robbins: I'll know more later.
Gil Grissom: You always tell me that.
Dr. Al Robbins: Yes, I do.
Dr. Al Robbins: Hand me that foot, would you?
Gil Grissom: Sometimes I can be a little thoughtless.
Catherine Willows: I wouldn't say that. Not just any guy would walk a girl to the morgue.
Catherine Willows: So, any luck with the blood and hair samples I gave you?
Greg Sanders: Don't insult me. Luck is only for those without skill.
Catherine Willows: Spoken like a man who's never hit the jackpot.
Greg Sanders: Sad, but true.
Greg Sanders: All work and no play makes Greg a dull boy.
Gil Grissom: All play and no work makes Greg an UNEMPLOYED boy.
Gil Grissom: Amazing how the sight of blood can clear a room.
Catherine Willows: If something doesn't feel right to you, it usually isn't.
Nick Stokes: There's a sucker born every minute.
Gil Grissom: Yeah, and they all come to Vegas.
[to Grissom upon seeing a bug]
Catherine Willows: Hey, look at that. Your six-legged soul mate
Gil Grissom: No victim can ever say we didn't try.
[in the autopsy room, looking over fragmented bones]
Dr. Al Robbins: You want a breast or a thigh?
Catherine Willows: It's your kitchen.
Captain Jim Brass: What are you doing after work?
Gil Grissom: More work.
Catherine Willows: What's up, David? You find something?
David Phillips: I was just thinking that I wouldn't be caught dead in those shorts.
Warrick Brown: Was that a confession?
Gil Grissom: I think a plea of insanity.
Captain Jim Brass: Hey, look what I found: a knife with blood on it.
Gil Grissom: Hey, look what I found: dead guy.
Gil Grissom: My bugs are my babies, my children.
Zach: You know how it is, you look like you were a jock in college.
Greg Sanders: Me?
Sara Sidle: Him?
(Hah! Greg, a jock? Sure. He's the geek we all know and love! :D)
Gil Grissom: I'm sorry, you look lost
Sheriff Rory Atwater: I've been calling your cell.
Gil Grissom: We get bad reception here in CSI. Listen, if this is about dinner, I'm free next week. I'll be having the fish.
Catherine Willows: Hey, you.
Warrick Brown: Hey.
Catherine Willows: How uh... are you holding up?
Warrick Brown: I'm fine.
Catherine Willows: You sure?
Warrick Brown: Yeah.
Catherine Willows: ...you're in the women's bathroom.
[identifying an insect at a crime scene]
Gil Grissom: Dermastidae masculatus.
Sara Sidle: That's Latin for "You're hiding a dead body."
Warrick Brown: Who brings a gun to a knife fight?
Gil Grissom: The winner?
Catherine Willows: You know how you're always pushing that holy trinity stuff?
Gil Grissom: Father, Son and Holy Ghost?
Catherine Willows: Victim, suspect, crime scene.
Gil Grissom: That one, huh?
Gil Grissom: I tend not to believe people; they lie. The evidence never lies.
Catherine Willows: The thing that makes a fantasy great is the possibility it might come true. And when you lose that possibility it just... kinda... sucks.
Person at mini-people's convention: does he ever talk?
Sara: yea. at uh, random intervals.
(about Grissom. Sara and Grissom were investigating a death at a dwarf convention.)
Greg: There's Hodges' fungus.
( on a golf course. Hodges identifies a fungus and Greg finds it when they go and investigate the golf course: possible primary crime scene)
Ray Langston: With her prints all over her sister's ex's balls.
( golf balls. a woman's prints were found on a dead man's golf balls. the woman turned out to be the dead guys ex-wife's sister's prints.)
Grissom: I think we look for the differences in each other to prove that we're not alone.
[Greg texts nick about evidence]
Nick: You beeped me from across the hall?
Greg: Yeah. I waved and you didn't look up.
UnderSheriff McKeen: What are you doing?
Gil Grissom: Circling blowflies.
UnderSheriff McKeen: Why?
Gil Grissom: 'Cause dead flies tell no lies.
[Holly Gribbs is performing her first autopsy]
Gil Grissom: You gotta breathe through your ears, Gribbs.
Gil Grissom: Would you mind taking off your jacket and rolling up your sleeve?
Holly Gribbs: What for?
Gil Grissom: I need a pint of your blood. It's customary for all new hires.
Holly Gribbs: Why?
Gil Grissom: So many reasons...
Warrick Brown: Whose blood is that?
Gil Grissom: The new girl. Want to donate?
Warrick Brown: Hell, no.
Sara: Is this some kind of convention?
Grissom: Little people convention. Every year they come from all around the world to a city - socialise, network. It's their prom, Olympics and New Year's Eve all rolled in one.
Sara: Grissom, how do you know this?
Grissom: I get the newsletters.
Doc Robbins: I'm allergic to red ants, you know.
Grissom: Yeah? I put 'em on my eggs.
Doc Robbins: They're dead I hope.
Greg Sanders: Looks like our vic was in a goth band. You know, I used to be goth.
Nick Stokes: Mh-hmm.
Greg Sanders: Yeah, the goth-thing was just an act. Chicks dug it.
Nick Stokes: How does that work?
Greg Sanders: You act depressed to get chicks, you get depressed chicks.
Greg Sanders: If you've got a band, you've got a blog.
Brass: Man or woman?
Grissom: Ant hill.
Hodges: I didn't page you.
Nick Stokes: No. I just figured I'd come by.
Hodges: You're checking up on me again.
Nick Stokes: No, I'm checking up on my evidence.
Hodges: Do you think if you hover the FTIR will work faster?
Nick Stokes: Yes, Hodges, that's what I think.
Nick Stokes: Is there anything you won't bet on, man?
Warrick Brown: Nah.
Gil Grissom: I can't tell whether he's brilliant or nuts.
Captain Jim Brass: Sound familiar?
(sounds like Grissom...)
Sara Sidle: Dead body! Bonus.
[Grissom admits to a mistake]
Gil Grissom: What?
Nick Stokes: Well, it's just that most people don't admit to being wrong.
Gil Grissom: I'm wrong all the time. It's how I get to "right".
Catherine Willows: Never doubt. Never look back. That's how I live my life.
Gil Grissom: I admire that.
Dr. Al Robbins: I'll know more later.
Gil Grissom: You always tell me that.
Dr. Al Robbins: Yes, I do.
Dr. Al Robbins: Hand me that foot, would you?
Gil Grissom: Sometimes I can be a little thoughtless.
Catherine Willows: I wouldn't say that. Not just any guy would walk a girl to the morgue.
Catherine Willows: So, any luck with the blood and hair samples I gave you?
Greg Sanders: Don't insult me. Luck is only for those without skill.
Catherine Willows: Spoken like a man who's never hit the jackpot.
Greg Sanders: Sad, but true.
Greg Sanders: All work and no play makes Greg a dull boy.
Gil Grissom: All play and no work makes Greg an UNEMPLOYED boy.
Gil Grissom: Amazing how the sight of blood can clear a room.
Catherine Willows: If something doesn't feel right to you, it usually isn't.
Nick Stokes: There's a sucker born every minute.
Gil Grissom: Yeah, and they all come to Vegas.
[to Grissom upon seeing a bug]
Catherine Willows: Hey, look at that. Your six-legged soul mate
Gil Grissom: No victim can ever say we didn't try.
[in the autopsy room, looking over fragmented bones]
Dr. Al Robbins: You want a breast or a thigh?
Catherine Willows: It's your kitchen.
Captain Jim Brass: What are you doing after work?
Gil Grissom: More work.
Catherine Willows: What's up, David? You find something?
David Phillips: I was just thinking that I wouldn't be caught dead in those shorts.
Warrick Brown: Was that a confession?
Gil Grissom: I think a plea of insanity.
Captain Jim Brass: Hey, look what I found: a knife with blood on it.
Gil Grissom: Hey, look what I found: dead guy.
Gil Grissom: My bugs are my babies, my children.
Zach: You know how it is, you look like you were a jock in college.
Greg Sanders: Me?
Sara Sidle: Him?
(Hah! Greg, a jock? Sure. He's the geek we all know and love! :D)
Gil Grissom: I'm sorry, you look lost
Sheriff Rory Atwater: I've been calling your cell.
Gil Grissom: We get bad reception here in CSI. Listen, if this is about dinner, I'm free next week. I'll be having the fish.
Catherine Willows: Hey, you.
Warrick Brown: Hey.
Catherine Willows: How uh... are you holding up?
Warrick Brown: I'm fine.
Catherine Willows: You sure?
Warrick Brown: Yeah.
Catherine Willows: ...you're in the women's bathroom.
[identifying an insect at a crime scene]
Gil Grissom: Dermastidae masculatus.
Sara Sidle: That's Latin for "You're hiding a dead body."
Warrick Brown: Who brings a gun to a knife fight?
Gil Grissom: The winner?
Catherine Willows: You know how you're always pushing that holy trinity stuff?
Gil Grissom: Father, Son and Holy Ghost?
Catherine Willows: Victim, suspect, crime scene.
Gil Grissom: That one, huh?
Gil Grissom: I tend not to believe people; they lie. The evidence never lies.
Catherine Willows: The thing that makes a fantasy great is the possibility it might come true. And when you lose that possibility it just... kinda... sucks.
Person at mini-people's convention: does he ever talk?
Sara: yea. at uh, random intervals.
(about Grissom. Sara and Grissom were investigating a death at a dwarf convention.)
Greg: There's Hodges' fungus.
( on a golf course. Hodges identifies a fungus and Greg finds it when they go and investigate the golf course: possible primary crime scene)
Ray Langston: With her prints all over her sister's ex's balls.
( golf balls. a woman's prints were found on a dead man's golf balls. the woman turned out to be the dead guys ex-wife's sister's prints.)
Grissom: I think we look for the differences in each other to prove that we're not alone.
[Greg texts nick about evidence]
Nick: You beeped me from across the hall?
Greg: Yeah. I waved and you didn't look up.
UnderSheriff McKeen: What are you doing?
Gil Grissom: Circling blowflies.
UnderSheriff McKeen: Why?
Gil Grissom: 'Cause dead flies tell no lies.
[Holly Gribbs is performing her first autopsy]
Gil Grissom: You gotta breathe through your ears, Gribbs.
Gil Grissom: Would you mind taking off your jacket and rolling up your sleeve?
Holly Gribbs: What for?
Gil Grissom: I need a pint of your blood. It's customary for all new hires.
Holly Gribbs: Why?
Gil Grissom: So many reasons...
Warrick Brown: Whose blood is that?
Gil Grissom: The new girl. Want to donate?
Warrick Brown: Hell, no.
[Grissom leaves the ballroom and comes to the hotel]
Officer Metcalf: Hey, Griss. What's with the monkey suit?
Gil Grissom: I was at a funeral across the street.
Officer Metcalf: At a casino? My condolences.
Sara: Is this some kind of convention?
Grissom: Little people convention. Every year they come from all around the world to a city - socialise, network. It's their prom, Olympics and New Year's Eve all rolled in one.
Sara: Grissom, how do you know this?
Grissom: I get the newsletters.
Doc Robbins: I'm allergic to red ants, you know.
Grissom: Yeah? I put 'em on my eggs.
Doc Robbins: They're dead I hope.
Greg Sanders: Looks like our vic was in a goth band. You know, I used to be goth.
Nick Stokes: Mh-hmm.
Greg Sanders: Yeah, the goth-thing was just an act. Chicks dug it.
Nick Stokes: How does that work?
Greg Sanders: You act depressed to get chicks, you get depressed chicks.
Greg Sanders: If you've got a band, you've got a blog.
Brass: Man or woman?
Grissom: Ant hill.
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