Sweets: These action figurines, they're awesome.
Booth: Still living at home there, huh, Sweets?
Sweets: No, I have my own place, and before that I lived with a woman. All right?
Brennan: Was that woman your mother?

Sweets: Um...Can I offer you a piece of advice?
Booth: Well, that's why we called you, Sweets...
Dr. Sweets: Don't try too hard to be their friends. Act like you're more interested in each other than any of them, all right? They will come to you.
Brennan: Okay, thanks, Sweets. [she hangs up]
Booth: So, uh, sex, right?
Brennan: Uh, good idea.
Booth: 'Kay.
[they start to shake the trailer]

Sweets: Well, uh, first I think it's important to find out what went wrong, why you were involved in an unsuccessful relationship.
Angela: Who said it was unsuccessful?
Sweets: You're not together anymore, are you?
Angela: Do you love your parents?
Sweets: Yes.
Angela: But you don't live together anymore, does that mean your relationship with mom and dad was unsuccessful?
Sweets: I don't think it's the same.
Angela: I do. Sometimes you have to move on, whatever your feelings.

Sweets: What part of "stop the car" don't you understand?
Booth: Just put your seatbelt back on! CLOSE THE DOOR!

Sweets: You don't think the success might make them change their minds?
Caroline: You know what? You're a nice kid, but today is a good day for you to grow the hell up.

Texas Ranger: How do you think they died?
Oklahoma Officer: They left Oklahoma, hit Texas, then died of despair.
Texas Ranger: Nope, they're definitely Oklahomans. If they were from Texas they would have had sense enough to carry water.
[...]
Booth: Twins conjoined at the ass!
Oklahoma Officer: Oh, they are definitely from Texas.

Thomas Vega: You just need to deal with the facts. If you can't put the ransom together in the time he gave you, your partner is dead.
Booth: (furiously throwing Vega on the table and choking him) Here's the deal, alright? You have a relationship with this guy, what they call symbiotic. You benefit from each other. So know this, huh? That deadline comes around and my partner is still in the ground, I will end you. You understand? Three hours to live. (lets him go) Better hurry.

Troy: (Sees the exhumed body on the lab table.) Oh god!
Angela: Don't look, sweetie.
Troy: You're not an artist. You're a freak. You're all freaks.
Angela: This job is so hard to describe online.

Tushman: The publishing game's changed. You know what I mean, Dr. Brennan.
Brennan: No, I do not.
Booth: Try me, Mr. Tushman.
Tushman: Book writing is no longer about good writing per se. It's about marketability. A book of the author. There's a reason why your photo takes up the entire back cover of your books.
Brennan: Because I'm a very good writer.
Tushman: You're serviceable, but your success is contingent upon your image as a hot scientist chick.
Brennan: That's not true, is it?
Booth: Of course not! Don't call my partner a chick! What's the matter with you?

Vincent: Definitely looks like murder.
Brennan: There's nothing definite here, Mr. Nigel-Murray. It's possible the victim had a grand mal seizure while voluntarily lying in the chocolate.
Cam: But let's call it murder, just for fun.

Vincent: [referring to the corpse that is being examined] Forgive me, doctors, but...is his skin moving?
Cam: Ooh...God, that's strange.
Brennan: Insect activity?
Hodgins: Never seen insects like that...'cept in Alien.
Vincent: I'm secreting adrenaline.

Vincent: Can I ask you something?
Hodgins: Is there any way to say no?
Vincent: What ever happened to whoever it was who used to work here before me?
Hodgins: He joined forces with a serial killer who was the last in the long line of cannibalistic murderers specializing in knocking off members of secret societies and building skeletons out of their body parts.
Vincent: Wow, I hope that doesn't happen to me.

Vincent: Our foamy friend seems to be petrifying right before our very eyes.

Vincent: Please tell me that this meat is not human.
Brennan: No, it's venison. We found it frozen in the suicide victim's cabin freezer.
Vincent: I'm confused. Are we investigating a murder, or preparing lunch for the Palin family?

Vincent: The slowest meteorites travel at 25,000 miles per hour.
Hodgins: Uh-huh.
Vincent: I'm not just spouting useless facts. You do not have a chance at recreating those velocities with a glorified blow-gun. You simply want to fire a cannon at a dummy.
Hodgins: [holds out safety goggles] Are you staying or going?
Vincent: Another set of eyes taking note can never be amiss.