My, my, aren’t we pushy . . .

Wow. Clearly, I need to find myself an ex-con. Since prison is probably the only place in this city I haven’t looked for Mr. Right yet.

Don't get me wrong. I love a Denver omelette as much as the next girl. But I'm curious whether that’s your thing, or if you try to change up the routine depending on the specific woman. You know… like, green pepper because I have green eyes, ham because I’m so funny, and onions for all the tears you’ll shed after I leave.

You don't touch the purse. The purse is sacrosanct.

Did you just ask me out on a date, Ms Parker?” “No.” “Are you sure? Because I-” “Still no. I need something, and you’re the only guy who can give it to me.” She cut him off before he could even say the words. “Yes, thank you. I’m aware of how that sounded. I’m hanging up now.

See you just don’t understand women the way I do J.D. They want it all: a career apple martinis financial independence great shoes but at the same time—and this they’ll never admit—they are drawn to patriarchal men who are dominant and controlling. That’s the essence of the Darcy complex. He may be an asshole but he’s an asshole that gets the girl in the end.

At least you're learning a thing or two about wine. Good to hear you're making such an effort to improve yourself." "Does the U.S. attorney know how much you like spending your Saturday nights eavesdropping on private conversations?" Nick asked. "The U.S. attorney knows exactly how I like spending my Saturday nights.