“When I tell people I'm planning on majoring in psychology, I usually get one of three responses: A) Oh! Are you analyzing me right now? B) Psychology . . . hardly an exact science, is it? or C) So what's wrong with you?”

“Cliare: "You know what? I need you right now."Shane:"Now?"Claire: "Right now."Shane: "Oh, that's so exactly what I was going to say." *dropping C. to the bed.*Claire: "Jinxies”

“I am embarrassed to admit what drew me to psychology. I didn't want to go to medical school. I was getting good grades in psychology and I was charismatic and people in the psychology department liked me. It was as low a level as that.”

“What's plan b?''We all die now.''What's plan c?”

“I proved to you that psychiatry is an exact science!""An exact science?!""Yes, you owe me exactly one hundred and forty-three dollars!”

“You know how it is as a rule, when you want to get Chappie A on Spot B at exactly the same moment when Chappie C is on Spot D. There's always a chance of a hitch. Take the case of a general, I mean to say, who's planning out a big movement. He tells one regiment to capture the hill with the windmill on it at the exact moment when another regiment is taking the bridgehead or something down in the valley; and everything gets all messed up. And then, when they're chatting the thing over in camp that night, the colonel of the first regiment says, "Oh, sorry! Did you say the hill with the windmill? I thought you said the one with the flock of sheep." And there you are!”