Amy: Maybe we should talk about deets for the case. Plan our next move. Grab some chow.
Captain Holt: No need. I brought these. Nutrition bricks. I have original no flavor, and whole wheat no flavor.

Jake: We have a few more questions for you, doctor.
Captain Holt: Doctor. Huh. It's funny when people call dentists "doctor".
Philip Davidson: We are doctors. We do four years of medical school.
Captain Holt: Yeah, but it's called "dental school".
Philip Davidson: But we learn about the entire body.
Captain Holt: But if you had cancer, you wouldn't call a dentist.
Philip Davidson: You know it's actually harder to get into dental school than medical school.
Captain Holt: Well, because there are fewer dental schools. Because most people want to become actual doctors.
Philip Davidson: That's ridiculous. It's not like we're college professors calling ourselves "doctors".
Captain Holt: Not the same thing, my friend.
Philip Davidson: Well, sure it is. When someone has a heart attack on a plane, do they yell out, "Yo, does anybody here have an Art History PhD?"
Captain Holt: A PhD is a doctorate. It's literally describing a doctor.
Jake: Maybe let's refocus.
Captain Holt: No! The problem here is that medical practitioners have co-opted the word "doctor".
Jake: Okay, Captain-
Captain Holt: I know we live in a world where anything can mean anything, and nobody even cares about etymolo-
[cut to outside, Holt downing a glass of water]
Captain Holt: Apparently that's a trigger for me.
Jake: Yeah, apparently.

Captain Holt: I wish he would turn the radio down.
Jake: You think that's the radio? That sounds like professional music to you?
Captain Holt: All music after Mahler sounds exactly like that.

Captain Holt: Nothing's okay. Wuntch, circling me like a shark frenzied by chum. The task force turning into a career-threatening quagmire. An Internal Affairs investigation casting doubt upon my integrity. And you ask, is everything okay? I am buffeted by the winds of my foe's enmity and cast about by the towering waves of cruel fate. Yet I, a Captain, am no longer able to command my vessel, my precinct, from my customary helm, my office. And you ask, is everything okay? I've worked the better part of my years on earth overcoming every prejudice and fighting for the position I hold, and now I feel it being ripped from my grasp, and with it the very essence of what defines me as a man. And you ask, is everything okay?

Captain Holt: He was a great partner. Smart, loyal, homophobic, but not racist. In those days that was pretty good.

Amy: Captain, how are you feeling?
Captain Holt: Better today. I even managed to eat some plain toast this morning.
Amy: Smart. Something bland.
Captain Holt: That's my favorite breakfast.

Gina: Is she crying?
Jake: A little.
Gina: You should be wailing you stone-cold bitch. Now call my other grandma.