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It's a fine farewell.

What, justice isn't our problem?

Certainty is the mother of fools.

Lisbon: You're a wanted man.
Jane: Well, I like to think so.

You've been LaRoched haven't you?

Mrs. Elkins: How can you be so cold?
Patrick: Practice.

(to Lisbon) You're the poster girl for the NRA.

You look good. Orange suits you.

Liar, liar pants on fire.

Tara: I don't want to speak ill of the dead.
Jane: They don't really care. They're dead.

Bad tasting food, bad taste buds.

Lisbon: I don't want to be thanked.
Jane: Too late.

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