Straight From The Scientist's Mouth
Okay, so if you haven't figured it out yet, I love CSI. Actually, better yet, I love Grissom (Nick can go take a long walk off a short pier, and Warrick? Well, let's not go there). Anyway, this being the case, I figured that it was only proper to create a page dedicated to my favorite CSI. And, since Grissom says so many profound and amazing things, well...you get the idea. So, basically, enjoy the quotes :)
Nick: Why're you tossing
me a softball, putting everyone else on real cases?
Grissom: You wanted to work
solo.
Nick: Yeah but it's like
night of the pifflings out there and I'm on a smash and grab.
Grissom: [Confused] Pufflings?
Nick: Puffin. Offspring.
First time out of the nest ever year, they crash land in this town near Iceland
because they're attracted to the lights of human civilization. It's the same
way people flock to Vegas for a fight.
Grissom: [Suddenly understanding]
Animal planet.
Nick: How come when you talk
about bugs everyone says you're a genius but when I talk about birds everyone
says I watch too much television?
Grissom: [Walking away] I
don't know.
Grissom: Witnesses?
Catherine: They were all in
the bathroom
Grissom: Aren't they always?
Greg: We have a problem.
Warrick: Pile it on.
Greg: Well, in the interest
of posterity I took it upon myself to establish providence for the killer gloves.
I mean DNA-wise, on my own time, of course of which I have precious little so
that should count for something...
Grissom: [Exasperatedly] Greg, why are you always
doing this?
Greg: Because you make me nervous.
Grissom: I guess clothes
do make the man.
Catherine: In this case,
the man makes the clothes. And produces the music, and represents the athletes,
when he's not involved in street shootings, of course.
Grissom: And when you asked
him what he was wearing the night of the murder, he couldn't remember?
Catherine: As far as he's concerned, murder is
just another way to separate himself from the Calvins and Ralphs of the world.
Grissom: Calvin and Ralph?
Catherine: Klien and Lauren...fashion
Grissom: Oh, well, for most CSI's fashion is irrelevant.
Warrick: There was this
one case where a boxer put lead shot in his gloves to increase his punching
power. And also, ancient greek and roman pugilists used a glove weighted with
metal called asestis.
Grissom: You making a classical
reference?
Warrick: Yeah, I thought
you'd like that.
Grissom: [re: the boxing death of L'Roy Steele] And mercury kills Steele.
Fight Coordinator: The sport
[boxing] has come a long way.
Grissom: It's still two skulls
and four fists.
Grissom to Catherine: It's just about evidence, it's not up to you whether he lives or dies. The case has no face.
Nick: People are pigs.
Grissom: Don't insult the
pigs, Nick. They're actually very clean.
Nick: Glock. Laser site.
Slide's missing. Mr. Reston was a bit of a garage tinker.
Grissom: Great. Drunks with
guns.
Nick: Hey, Gris. Found
a density change. Screen's showing something.
Grissom: What's your depth
estimate?
Nick: Two and a half feet.
Grissom: Oh dear. Shovels
and screens, shoots and ladders.
Nick: Yeah. Well, we have something
else to hold Reston on. Illegal burial of a domestic animal.
Grissom: Weak.
Nick: I'll cover it and bag it up
Grissom: So Debbie Reston never showed up at work and
she's not buried in the back yard. Where did Debbie go?
Catherine: I found pieces of this
in the victim's hair. What does it look like to you?
Grissom: What does it sound like? With the exception of
the termite queen, the cicada is the longest living insect. It spends 17 years
dormant underground, and then the cicada nymph emerges and sheds its skin. As
adults, they flit around for about 5 weeks of activity in the hot sun and then
they die.
Catherine: Spend their whole lives waiting for the end.
Grissom: Not unlike death row.
Sara: Since when were you concerned
with beauty?
Grissom: Since I met you.
Grissom: [Picking up bugs]
John...Paul...George...and Ringo.
Sara: Beetles.
Grissom: You're confused,
right?
Sara: Yes.
Grissom: That's the best place for a scientist
to be.
Grissom: The worms go in, the worms go out, the worms play pinochle on your snout.
Doctor: I'm allergic to red ants,
you know?
Grissom: Yeah. I put them on my
eggs.
Doctor: They're dead, I hope.
Grissom: What's that old cowboy
expression? Got to see a man about a horse? That reminds me. I've got to see
a woman about a face.
Nick: Yee haw.
Grissom: [To a murderer who
killed a boy with Down Syndrome] By the way, the definition of "retard"
is to hinder or to hold someone back. I think your life is about to become retarded.
Grissom: [Regarding a body in the
sand] To get to the evidence, we may destroy the evidence.
Catherine: Do you get these hiakus
out of a book, or do they just come to you?
Grissom: Everytime you find a body you have to choose
a path, and when you take that path, grasshopper, you risk destroying the evidence.
Catherine: We grab a trowel and some find mesh screens
and we just pretend like we're panning for gold, Master.
Lady Heather [owner of a fetish club]: Does
all this fascinate you?
Grissom: Yes. I find all deviant
behavior fascinating in that to understand our human nature we have to understand
our abhorrations.
Lady Heather: And do you think what goes on here is abhorrant?
Grissom: I would say that whip marks and ligature contusions
on a young woman are abhorrant, wouldn't you?
Lady Heather: Every job has its peculiar hazzards. What
happens here isn't about violence. It's about challenging preconcieved notions
of Victorian normalicy. Bringing people's
fantacies to like--making then real and acceptable.
Grissom: Like the theatre.
Lady Heather: It's people who don't come to places like
this that I worry about. The one's who don't have an outlet. Say...someone like
yourself.
Grissom: Oh, I have outlets. I read. I study bugs. I sometimes
even ride rollercoasters.
Lady Heather: And your sex life?
Grissom: It doesn't involve going to the theatre.
Grissom: I was wrong
about the species.
*Warrick and Nick snicker*
Grissom: What?
Nick: Well, it's just that we've never heard you admit
to being wrong before.
Grissom: I'm wrong all the time. It's how I get to right.
Grissom: We've ID'd
the dog.
Nick: Well, if he's got chucks of jogger hanging out of
his mouth, cuff him.
Grissom: Simba's bite
mark matches the mold.
Nick: Does that mean Simba is going to the big dogpile
in the sky?
Grissom: No, we need to find more evidence--find
some jogger in Simba's stool.
Doctor: Tell me Mr. Grissom. How
does a man choose death as his profession?
Grissom: Actually, it chose me.
Doctor: One man's corpse is another man's candy.
Grissom: Even death is not to be feared by those who lived wisely.
Grisson: [picking up a blender
which tested positive for blood] She made a protein shake in this yesterday--right
in front of me.
Nick: Woah, so she's not selling
organs on the black market, she's eating them.
Grissom: [picking up a glass which also tested positive]
Possibly drinking them.
Grissom: I come here for calamari.
Catherine: Oh... Alone?
Grissom: No. Sometimes I have a beer with it.
Grissom: There are three things
people love to stare at: a babbling brook, a roaring fire, and a Zamboni going
around and around.
Catherine: I love a Zamboni.
Grissom: Everybody loves a Zamboni.
Grissom: If you chase two rabbits, you lose them both.
Warrick : So were you a jock or
a brain?
Grissom: I was a ghost.
Catherine: You're right, you know.
I should be just like you. Alone in my hermetically sealed condo, watching Discovery
on the big screen, working genius-level crossword puzzles. But no relationships,
no chance any will slop over into a case. Yeah, right. I want to be just like
you.
Grissom: Technically it's a townhouse. And the crosswords
are advanced, not genius. But you're right, I'm deficient in a lot of ways.
But I never screw up one of my cases with personal stuff.
Catherine: Grissom...WHAT personal stuff?
Catherine: Definitely a crime of
passion.
Grissom: You think a female did this?
Catherine: I could have.
Grissom: I'm scared of you.
[After Grissom was licking rocks to see if they're bones]
Grissom: Could be a piece of wrist bone.
Willows: Well, do you want to suck on it? To be sure?
[Upon finding a skeleton embedded in a house]
Nick: Ten bucks says the owner sells the place.
Grissom: By law you have to disclose everything: 2 bedrooms,
1 bath, and a skeleton.
[Catherine returns to Vegas from Miami]
Catherine: Hello.
Grissom: Hey. Nice tan.
Catherine: Nice suit.
Grissom: Yeah, well, I knew you were coming back today,
so I dressed up.
Catherine: Yeah...right....
Grissom: Really.
[Catherine looks him up and down]
Grissom: What?
Catherine: Nothing. It's just unusual to...see you dressed...like
that.
Grissom: I had to go to the chief's funeral.
Catherine: Missed me that much, huh?
Grissom: Sometimes I can be a
little thoughtless.
Catherine: I wouldn't say that. Not just any guy would
walk a girl to the morgue.
Catherine: So, are you thinking
what I'm thinking?
Grissom: How amazing the universe is. Everything made
from the same carbon, stars to trees, trucks to human bones.
Catherine: Uh, no, I was thinking that we have about 100
bone fragments. We could ID this body before the end of the shift.
Grissom: A girl...in a culvert
pipe...at a highway construction site...in the middle of an alfalfa field...
[turns to Brass]
Grissom: You got anything to add?
Captain Brass: Nothing as poetic.
Catherine: I just realized that
you and I have a very healthy relationship.
Grissom: We do?
Catherine: When we have a problem, I don't paint Greg
in latex and stick a straw up his nose.
Grissom: Good. He'd probably like it.
Grissom: [to Captain Brass] People
don't just disappear, Jim. It's molecularly impossible.
Grissom: You showered.
Catherine: Thanks for noticing Gil, you're very observant.
Grissom: [Studying
a picture while standing in front of Catherine] Yeah,
well. I can't tell what I am observing here. What
does that look like to you?
Catherine: A five foot eleven workaholic.
Warrick: Where have you been?
Grissom: I can't be everywhere Warrick, and they banned
human cloning.
Grissom : Did you know that Nevada
produces 80% of the countries gold?
Miners drop cyanide powder into the dirt, and it draws the gold to
the surface.
Sara : And ... how does a bug specialist know so much
about dirt?
Grissom : I had a case five years ago. We found a skeleton
in an abandoned
gold mine. I thought it was a murder. Turned out the guy
passed out, drunk, and the cyanide leeched into his system.
Sara : Gruesome, Grissom.
Sara : Grissom,
can you come tape me up?
Grissom : I love my work.
Catherine : It shows.
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