Captain Holt: Gina, have you thought this through? Have you considered the ramifications of what you're doing?
Gina: Yeah, I mean, I named this guy Hitchcock and now I kind of want him off the board.

Gina: It's Gina's phone. Leave me a voice-mail. I won't check it 'cause it's not 1993.

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

Gina: All men are at least 30% attracted to me. My mother cried the day I was born, because she knew she would never be better than me. At any given moment, I'm thinking about one thing: Richard Dreyfuss hunkered over eating dog food. I feel like I'm the Paris of people.

Gina: Hey, Craptain, you ready to get curb stomped?
Sergeant Jeffords: What?
Gina: At chess.
Captain Holt: We have a weekly match. I'm teaching Gina to play. And she, in turn, is teaching me to trash talk. The hospital called. Your test results came back positive. You're a stage five dumbass.
Gina: Oh! You have come so far.

Gina: But I do know the names. I've simply rebranded them. My queen is Rihanna.
My king is Beyonce. And this little guy is Kevin. Would you be willing to murder Kevin, the love of your life?
Captain Holt: Yes. Chess Kevin means nothing to me.

Sergeant Jeffords: This is crazy. I can't imagine the Nine-Nine without you.
Gina: Don't worry. I have a parting gift for all of you. I printed "Time for Gina's Opinion" hoodies for you with your names on them. Oh, there you go.
Jake: Oh, that's fun. So like "Time for Jake's Opinion"?
Gina: What are you, insane? No. It says "Time for Gina's Opinion" in large text on the back and then your names are stitched really tiny on the front.
Jake: Ah.
Gina: I had to guess at some of the spellings.
Amy: Arnie?