Ronald Miller: Nerds, jocks. My side, your side. It's all bullshit. Its hard enough just trying to be yourself.
Ronald Miller: We do have a lot of great memories but be honest... wouldn't you like to be popular?
Kenneth Wurman: And have to be in a clique... no.
Ronald Miller: What happened to us? We were all friends in elementary.
Kenneth Wurman: That's because we were all forced to be in the same room together. But, hey, Junior high, high school. Forget it. Jocks became Jocks. Cheerleaders became cheerleaders. We became us. I like us.
Chuckie Miller: What we have here is something I Just learned called the law of supply and demand. I shall supply you this remote control, but I'm going to demand, say, uh, two bucks.
Ronald Miller: Wrong! That is not how the economic theory works.
Chuckie Miller: Look, I learned it in seventh grade, not Harvard.
Ronald Miller: Okay, let me give you the theory of relativity. Either you put on Bandstand now, or I have one less relative.
Chuckie Miller: I'll put on Bandstand Just for you.
Ronald Miller: You ignored the Donald Miller geek for seventeen years, now you want to ride the Ronnie Miller express.
Dr. Derek Shepherd: It's not the chase.
Dr. Meredith Grey: What?
Dr. Derek Shepherd: You and me. It is not the thrill of the chase. It's not a game. It's... It's your tiny ineffectual fists. And your hair.
Dr. Meredith Grey: My hair?
Dr. Derek Shepherd: It smells good. And you're very, very ballsy. It keeps me in line.
Dr. Meredith Grey: I'm still not going out with you.
Dr. Derek Shepherd: You say that now.
Amy Myer: So, what time will you be picking me up?
Peter Connor: Um, I don't know. Around 8?
Amy Myer: Okay, does that mean 7:45 or 8:15, 8:30...?
Peter Connor: Means around 8.
Amy Myer: Yeah, but, are you the kind of guy that says around 8 and then you show up at 10 or...?
Peter Connor: I'll be there - at 8.
Tom: Nobody in the world makes me laugh the way you do. You're my best friend. I just wanna be with you.
Dr. Harrison Copeland: What's there to hate?
Julia Fitzpatrick: Nothing, if you're a handsome, divorced doctor, but for the rest of us single women, it's kind of a giant cosmic bitchslap. It's like the universe saying, look, remember when you were fourteen and you had cystic acne and braces and you played the saxophone in the marching band and no one would invite you to the winter formal? Well nothing's changed.
Dr. Harrison Copeland: Oh, I would crawl over cut glass to take you to the winter formal. And then I would prescribe Retin-A for your skin.
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