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An elite team of police forensic evidence investigation experts work their cases in Las Vegas.
Greg Sanders: Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of beer. Swab one down, run it through CODIS, ninety-eight bottles of beer on the wall.
Catherine Willows: Hey, you. Warrick Brown: Hey. Catherine Willows: How uh... are you holding up? Warrick Brown: I'm fine. Catherine Willows: You sure? Warrick Brown: Yeah. Catherine Willows: ...you're in the women's bathroom.
[liquid from the trunk of a car containing two corpses splashes up onto Greg's face and into his mouth] Sara Sidle: Technically, that makes you a cannibal. Grissom would be proud. Greg Sanders: Grissom would have tasted it on purpose.
Greg Sanders: All work and no play makes Greg a dull boy. Gil Grissom: All play and no work makes Greg an UNEMPLOYED boy.
Greg Sanders: I, am a genius. Warrick Brown: Let me guess, you ran the DNA and got a hit? Greg Sanders: No. Gil Grissom: You ran the DNA and something distinctive came up? Greg Sanders: No. Warrick Brown: You rolled out of bed and managed to dress yourself? Greg Sanders: No.
Gil Grissom: So, let's see. You surf, you scuba dive. You're into latex, you like fashion models and Marilyn Manson. And you also have a coin collection? Greg Sanders: Weird, ha? Gil Grissom: Well, I race cockroaches!
Warrick Brown: Who brings a gun to a knife fight? Gil Grissom: The winner?
[Looking for clues in a messy trailer] Nick Stokes: People are pigs. Gil Grissom: Don't insult the pigs, Nick. They're actually very clean.
[identifying an insect at a crime scene] Gil Grissom: Dermastidae masculatus. Sara Sidle: That's Latin for "You're hiding a dead body."
Catherine Willows: We're mid-case. Why do we have to do this now? Gil Grissom: Well, unless I get these evaluations in, I'll be written up. Catherine Willows: My goals... all right, for starters, I'd like two consecutive nights off. I would like to cut my triples down to 10 instead of the usual 20, and I would love to find a reliable babysitter so I could have myself some kind of a personal life. Gil Grissom: You don't have a personal life? Catherine Willows: Write this down: I haven't had sex in six - no, seven months. Gil Grissom: How can I help? [Her eyes widen] Gil Grissom: You. Advance, I mean.
Zach: You know how it is, you look like you were a jock in college. Greg Sanders: Me? Sara Sidle: Him?
Nick Stokes: [Greg opens a cupboard and pulls out a book] I thought that's where you kept your porn. Greg Sanders: I move it around.
Gil Grissom: I just got a page from James Watson. Nick Stokes: And I got one from Francis Crick. What's going on, Greg? Greg Sanders: Well, as you both know, Watson and Crick are the granddaddies of DNA. Without their discoveries, I'd have nothing to do all day. Nick Stokes: What have you been doing all day?
Catherine Willows: You know how you're always pushing that holy trinity stuff? Gil Grissom: Father, Son and Holy Ghost? Catherine Willows: Victim, suspect, crime scene. Gil Grissom: That one, huh?
[Grissom admits to a mistake] Gil Grissom: What? Nick Stokes: Well, it's just that most people don't admit to being wrong. Gil Grissom: I'm wrong all the time. It's how I get to "right".
[after telling Grissom something that Grissom already knows] Greg Sanders: I guess I should stop trying to impress you. Gil Grissom: That would impress me.
Gil Grissom: I can't tell whether he's brilliant or nuts. Captain Jim Brass: Sound familiar?
Gil Grissom: Sometimes I can be a little thoughtless. Catherine Willows: I wouldn't say that. Not just any guy would walk a girl to the morgue.
Nick Stokes: There's a sucker born every minute. Gil Grissom: Yeah, and they all come to Vegas.
Captain Jim Brass: [an accused perp bends over to be searched] You better save that position for later, you'll need it where you're going.
Sara Sidle: Clothing, $85. Earrings, $30. Latte, $4. Getting away with murder... Gil Grissom: Priceless.
Greg Sanders: Bringing back a semen sample... I analyzed this and found your DNA. Nick Stokes: That was quick. Greg Sanders: No jokes about my being fast in this department. Nick Stokes: Hah.
Nick Stokes: Well, it takes 10 minutes to drive from the clinic to Industrial Road. Warrick Brown: Yeah? Nick Stokes: Yeah, I had Greg run it. Warrick Brown: [laughing] That's classic!
[Later in the lab] Sara Sidle: You made my pickle into a light bulb?
Dr. Al Robbins: Hand me that foot, would you?
Captain Jim Brass: Let me put it this way - I'd want them investigating my murder.
Catherine Willows: Never doubt. Never look back. That's how I live my life. Gil Grissom: I admire that.
Grissom: "The evil men do always lives after them. The good is often interred with their bones." Warrick Brown: Shakespeare? Grissom: [nods] Julius Caesar.
Catherine Willows: If something doesn't feel right to you, it usually isn't.
[Grissom walks by the lab where Greg is playing music] Gil Grissom: Hey, Sanders, no punk rock. Greg Sanders: What about Black Flag? Gil Grissom: Are you nuts?
[to Grissom upon seeing a bug] Catherine Willows: Hey, look at that. Your six-legged soul mate.
Sara Sidle: Dead body! Bonus.
Gil Grissom: [to Hodges] So you're saying our killer had metal balls?
Catherine Willows: So, any luck with the blood and hair samples I gave you? Greg Sanders: Don't insult me. Luck is only for those without skill. Catherine Willows: Spoken like a man who's never hit the jackpot. Greg Sanders: Sad, but true.
[in the autopsy room, looking over fragmented bones] Dr. Al Robbins: You want a breast or a thigh? Catherine Willows: It's your kitchen.
[talking to a suspect about a broken mirror at the crime scene] Sara Sidle: You know that's seven years bad luck. Captain Jim Brass: More like seven to ten.
Gil Grissom: Did you hear the one about the cop and the monkey who go into a bar? Catherine Willows: I'm not in the mood. Gil Grissom: Neither was the monkey.
Captain Jim Brass: Hey, look what I found: a knife with blood on it. Gil Grissom: Hey, look what I found: dead guy.
Catherine Willows: [looking at a surveillance video of a teenage boy in an elevator] You crack this kid's head open, all that would come out would be T&A. Greg Sanders: I think you said that about me once. Catherine Willows: Actually, more than once.
Greg Sanders: Hey Catherine, you think Sara would go to dinner with me? Catherine Willows: Sure, as long as you don't tell her it's a date.
Greg Sanders: [about orthodontia] I had it all - palate expander, braces, retainer, headgear. Five years of torture, but worth every penny, don't you think?
Greg Sanders: For the record, I really like having a penis.
Nick Stokes: You need to get a girlfriend. David Phillips: I'm engaged, but thank you.
Gil Grissom: Amazing how the sight of blood can clear a room.
Captain Jim Brass: What can't you put your finger on, apart from the cut off switch?
Greg Sanders: I had to send this to an outside lab since we're not equipped to carry out bacterial DNA analysis. Hint, hint.
[about an elastic plastic] Gil Grissom: What's it found in? Hodges: Greg-Sanders-wear.
Catherine Willows: Lovers and co-workers, that never works.
Catherine Willows: What kind of perverse game are you playing here, Gil? Gil Grissom: I'm not a pervert.
Warrick Brown: You just don't let up, do you? Sara Sidle: It's a flaw.
[after Greg kicks him out of the lab] Warrick Brown: Did you take your medication today?
Nick Stokes: Mrs Hendler, do you and your husband do much rock climbing? Amy Hendler: Yes. [points gun at Nick] Amy Hendler: That's what I killed her with.
Sara Sidle: So what is it? Hodges: Give me some time, I'm not a miracle worker. Sara Sidle: Well, that's obvious, Hodges, or else you wouldn't be rude. Hodges: I wasn't being rude, I was being curt. Rude would be "When I know, you'll know." Friends? Sara Sidle: No.
Catherine Willows: The thing that makes a fantasy great is the possibility it might come true. And when you lose that possibility it just... kinda... sucks.
Nick Stokes: [Archie was talking to Nick about a Star Trek episode] You need a girlfriend. Archie: You first.
[Cath stares at the body of her deceased ex-husband] Dr. Al Robbins: Catherine, you can't say goodbye in an autopsy room.
Gil Grissom: There is always a clue.
Hodges: I didn't page you. Nick Stokes: No. I just figured I'd come by. Hodges: You're checking up on me again. Nick Stokes: No, I'm checking up on my evidence. Hodges: Do you think if you hover the FTIR will work faster? Nick Stokes: Yes, Hodges, that's what I think.
[to Warrick] Catherine Willows: Whatever you say, Superfly.
Sara Sidle: Is there truly no place left in Las Vegas without slot machines?
Greg Sanders: [about Sara] You want a valium for her? Sara Sidle: I heard that!
Catherine Willows: What's up, David? You find something? David Phillips: I was just thinking that I wouldn't be caught dead in those shorts.
Gil Grissom: Ok, we're going off the board tonight. Sara Sidle: Off the board? Catherine Willows: Fish. The ones that got away. Sara Sidle: Oh. I missed that one.
Gil Grissom: I tend not to believe people; they lie. The evidence never lies.
Hodges: "Thank you Hodges for performing that incredibly elaborate test requiring copious concentration and an advanced degree."
Nick Stokes: Is there anything you won't bet on, man? Warrick Brown: Nah.
Gil Grissom: Are we paying you by the word?
[suspect shows Cath a picture of a guy] Suspect: I have THIS guy keeping me at home. Catherine Willows: Ahhh, did you get that picture from your wallet? I mean, when you bought it?
Gil Grissom: No victim can ever say we didn't try.
[Nick has offered to make a bet on a case] Warrick Brown: I don't get out of bed for less than a bill.
Gil Grissom: The rich are just as depraved as the poor.
Gil Grissom: Where's your enthusiasm? Greg Sanders: Whenever I find a match in here, my world gets a little smaller. Out there I felt large. Gil Grissom: Out there means a pay cut. Greg Sanders: I'm not about the money.
[Sara storms in, obviously angry] Sara Sidle: You weren't in your office. Gil Grissom: And good morning to you too, Miss Sidle.
Gil Grissom: What you do on your time is your business. What you do on my time is my business.
Catherine Willows: [to Grissom] What would you do without me?
Gil Grissom: My bugs are my babies, my children.
Gil Grissom: I'm sorry, you look lost Sheriff Rory Atwater: I've been calling your cell. Gil Grissom: We get bad reception here in CSI. Listen, if this is about dinner, I'm free next week. I'll be having the fish.
Dr. Al Robbins: I'll know more later. Gil Grissom: You always tell me that. Dr. Al Robbins: Yes, I do.
Gil Grissom: Maestro, what's the deal with our floater? [shouts over the music] Gil Grissom: Professor! What's up with our floater?
[after Gil Grissom lights up a pickle in the lab] Gil Grissom: You know this is how I cooked my hot dogs in college.
Sara Sidle: I think this print dust is getting to me. Would you mind finishing up the fridge? Greg Sanders: Do I get a gold star?
Catherine Willows: How old were you when your father died? Gil Grissom: Nine. Catherine Willows: Little guy.
Warrick Brown: Was that a confession? Gil Grissom: I think a plea of insanity.
[to a recalcitrant suspect] Captain Jim Brass: Newsflash. You can't make a deal if you keep your mouth shut.
Captain Jim Brass: What are you doing after work? Gil Grissom: More work.
Sara Sidle: I was really into gold stars when I was a kid. Greg Sanders: As opposed to now?
Dr. Al Robbins: He's been pretty worked over. How many teeth did you find at the crime scene? Grissom: Two. Dr. Al Robbins: He's missing six.
Captain Jim Brass: Our friend Tony just checked into the hotel. Didn't even unpack his bags. Grissom: He made enemies fast.
Nick Stokes: You don't have a career without a job.
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