Charles: Hey. The desk sergeant said we're hosting a forensic sciences course.
Captain Holt: Yes, taught by Dr. Ronald Yee.
Amy: He revolutionized the field of forensic entomology. He is a rock star.
Captain Holt: Oh, please. Rock stars wish they were he. The man can tell how long a corpse had been decomposing just by studying the maggots inside. I'd like to see Barbra Streisand do that.
Amy: I'm not sure Barbra Streisand counts as a rock star, sir.
Captain Holt: She sings in English. That's rock music.

Rosa: All you have to do is say a few nice comments during the memorial.
Captain Holt: As God said when Wuntch tried to sneak past the gates into heaven, "It ain't happening, honey."
Rosa: [cackles]

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.

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.

Charles: We buried my Nana Boyle at the family farm, but because of the soil's high salt content, she turned into jerky.

Rosa: Why are you so excited? You don't care about those stupid books.
Jake: I actually did read all of them in prison. They are the greatest books I've ever read, and I've read "Cujo."

Jake: Terry, you are a great husband, father, detective, painter, dancer, and you're so jacked you have muscles on your back.
Sergeant Jeffords: Everyone has back muscles, Jake.
Jake: Nuh-huh, my back looks like the inside of a spoon.