“A man washing up secretly imagines himself to be the head surgeon in an operating theater. He is entitled to bark out peremptory orders: 'Right! I'm ready for the pudding things now!”

“You don't get it boy... this isn't a mudhole... its an operating table. (KRAKKKKK) And I'm the surgeon.”

“Carving?""Your name. My back. I can't fucking wait." Jane whistled under her breath. "Do I get to do it?" He barked a laugh. "No!" "Come on. I'm a surgeon, I'm good with knives.”

“Man is a fallen star till he is right with heaven: he is out of order with himself and all around him till he occupies his true place in relation to God. When he serves God, he has reached that point where he doth serve himself best, and enjoys himself most. It is man's honour, it is man's joy, it is man's heaven, to live unto God.”

“It's a good thing he broke up with you because now you're free for when the right man finds you. Your prince is on his way.""Right. I'm sure he was on his way but a truck hit him.”

“My father, for whose skills as a surgeon I have the deepest respect, says, "The operation with the best outcome is the one you decide not to do." Knowing when not to operate, knowing when I am in over my head, knowing when to call for the assistance of a surgeon of my father's caliber--that kind of talent, that kind of "brilliance," goes unheralded.”