Look, I don't want to go all Godfather on you. This was business.

Masters: Julie doesn't have smallpox.
House: Did I just dream the part where I finally agreed it was smallpox? Well, if what I thought was reality was actually a dream, then the reverse... oh, my God, I had a threesome with Beyonce and Lady Gaga.

Masters: So I guess honesty is the best policy.
House: Why'd you say that? Seriously... to establish your viewpoint as if I didn't already know it. Or to demonstrate some weird cross-generational female solidarity with Cuddy?
Masters: Actually, I was just trying to fill the awkward silence.
House: Oh.

Masters: You don't trust me.
House: Going behind your back works better when you're not facing us.

Dr. Chase: You just tried this. I'm not a better liar than Foreman.
House: Sure you are. You're descended from convicts.

Masters: Scrofula. That's what they called cervical T.B. lymphadenitis in the 1700s.
House: Scrofulicous. That's what they called "annoying" in the 1700s

House: I want you to translate something for me.
Geerte: Why do you want I translate? I do topless, toys, and...
Masters: Just do the translation.
House: She can translate however she feels most comfortable.

Geerte: Oh, yes. My names is Geerte. Are you handsome, sexiest American man?
House: You know, some people - I would say that I am, yeah.

Taub: The virus can't survive over 200 years.
House: You have.

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