Show me a 20-year-old who’s not in love. You get married at 20, you’re going to be shocked with who you’re living with at 30.
HOUSE: Who’s he talking to?
CAMERON: What?
HOUSE: It’s got an ass. Technically, that makes it a “who.â€
How many more failed relationships are we both going to have to deal with before you learn to love yourself? And I mean that in the literal way.
HOUSE: If he’s not hitting that, then why is she here?
CAMERON: Because I’m hitting that and it’s totally hot.
You want me to touch you? It’s your private place!
Try a lubricant or foreplay if you’re cheap.
Sorry, already met this month’s quota of useless tests for stubborn idiots.
Please stop. It’s hard to write through the haze of bitter tears.
TRITTER: Last nurse you made fun of, she probably slipped some crap into your coffee.
HOUSE: Yeah. I asked for decrappinated coffee.
There’s a reason that we don’t let kids vote, or drink, or work in salt mines: they’re idiots! Twenty-year-olds fall in and out of love more often than they change their oil filters. Which they should do more often.
Good. Now go rub their lying, cheating privates with a cotton swab.
HOUSE: Any of your shorties ever been whities?
FOREMAN: I’m not sure I understand your ghetto slang, Dr. House. How many black women have you dated by the way?
HOUSE: I don’t care about color as long as they can help me breed a superior race.
He got off easy—I almost gave him a colonoscopy.
CUDDY: Pay attention to me.
HOUSE: Sorry, that would make it harder to ignore you.
WILSON: Your real fear is me having a good relationship.
HOUSE: Yes. That keeps me up at night. That and the lochness monster, global warming, evolution, other fictional concepts…
Good point. Let’s biopsy something safer, like her shoes.
If they die now, they’ll never be able to grow old and tired of each other.
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