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Bones

When Booth and I first met, I didn't believe that such a thing as love existed. I maintained that it was simply brain chemistry, but perhaps Booth is correct. Perhaps love comes first and creates the reaction. I have no tangible proof, but I'm willing to accept Booth's premise.

Brennan

Hodgins: Do you know what Vincent Nigel-Murray is? He's a genius.
Brennan: Yes, but so are we all. Except for Angela.
Angela: Oh, right, and yet who do you turn to when you need pretty pictures?

Angela: Four years ago Jared's girlfriend was a hooker?
Brennan: An escort. I believe in the hierarchy of prostitution, an escort ranks equal to high class call girl.
Angela: And now she teaches grade school?
Brennan: Mm-hmm. I don't see any other injuries that could be cause of death. Apparently the rule is, once a sex worker always a sex worker.
Angela: You know, it really would have been better if Booth never ran her record.
Brennan: He said it was my influence. That it was the rational thing to do.
Angela: No, sweetie, he's rationalizing. Which makes what he did irrational, because he's rationalizing that Jared can't make rational decisions for himself. You do the same thing all the time. Maybe that's what he learned from you.

Booth: You think your brother's girlfriend is hinky? Is that slang for pretty or buxom?
Brennan: No, it's just slang for iffy.
Booth: Well, iffy is already slang. I don't see the need for slang for slang.

Cam: Dr. Hodgins, I can still see one in his mouth.
Hodgins: These badboys are fontanela communis. They're non-poisonous.
Cam: Yeah, but still with those gross spider faces and legs, though.

Hodgins: Are you okay there, Dr. Saroyan?
Cam: I'm just itchy all over. I'm gonna go burn all of these clothes and maybe my hair.

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