Sheriff Mobley: Grissom.
Grissom': Sheriff?
Sheriff Mobley: The mayor has already called. So what have you got?
Grissom': Nothing.
Sheriff Mobley: I'm not asking you to lay out your whole case. Just give me something I can run with. I have got to feed the press and defuse the panic.
Grissom': As soon as I have something, you'll have something.
Sheriff Mobley: Here's a thought. Why don't you try being more like Ecklie?
Grissom': I could speak volumes about Conrad Ecklie, but I have a crime scene to process so ... you'll have to excuse me.

Sheriff: [about Grissom talking to Brass] What was that about?
Grissom: Ah, we're in a bowling league together.

Sheriff: Actions have consequences, Gil, even yours.

Sheriff: What happened to good old dusting for prints?
Grissom: When your crime scene is 12 stories up I don't want to take any chances.

Sherlock Holmes Man: So you actually think this is something other than suicide?
Brass: You know, I think you gotta drop the accent!
Sherlock Holmes Man: I can't! I'm English!
Brass: Oh!

Sofia: What's the problem?
Greg: Nothing. I'm fine.
Sofia: You're not.
Greg: I feel like a wuss. Grissom told me I should take a break, and I did.
Sofia: Your burn victim.
Greg: [nods] How do you get an image like that out of your mind?
Sofia: You go home. You, uh... hug your cat, your dog, your pillow. You have a beer, you watch a movie, and then you come back tomorrow.
Greg: Is that supposed to make me feel better?
Sofia: Rumor has it you used to be a pretty funny guy. Don't lose that.

Sofia: Your broadcast was for a blue Pontiac. Patrol figured this was worth a look.
Grissom: How bad does a smell have to get before Parking Control calls Homicide?
Sara: No way this car was at the trailer park. Think we've got a new case. First citation was issued five days ago. Car's probably been here at least six. [Sofia pops the trunk. Inside are the liquefied remains of two bodies] Six days in the summer heat.
Grissom: And a trunk becomes a crockpot.

Store Clerk: [to Brass as he carries a box of drinks] Look, dude, I didn't see it.[puts the box down on the side] Chica had a nice, round ass and that's what I was scoping.
Brass: What time was that?
Store Clerk: About 3:00. She comes in, grabs some candy, looks outside, waves at somebody. The next thing I know, she flips her wig. She's screaming about her sister. I didn't see the girl or a car. Besides, there's a lot of traffic out there.
Brass: Was it busy?
Store Clerk: Kind of.
Brass: How many surveillance cameras do you have in here?
Store Clerk: Inside we got five. They're all state-of-the-art. Place gets hit a lot. Outside they're all dummies.
Brass: Well, I'm glad to see you're so concerned about your customers after they leave the store.

Sybil Perez: [to Catherine about Alicia] You have no idea what it's like.
Catherine: I saw her medical records. I looked at her x-rays. I know what that little girl suffered, what you put her through.
Sybil Perez: So you would let your child die and do nothing. Never. No, you'd talk to doctors and research. And then you'd find out that the National Bone Marrow Registry can't help you 'cause your son is mixed race. And even if he wasn't, there aren't enough donors. Out of four million, only 205,000 are Latino. I did what I had to do.
Catherine: You put one child over another.
Sybil Perez: [scoffs] I don't expect you to understand. You don't have kids.
Catherine: Uh, I have a daughter.
Sybil Perez: So, what kind of mother are you? When do you see her? You work nights. You probably don't even know where she half the time. Alicia's life may not have been simple, but at least I knew her. Can you say the same?

Teri Miller: It's kind of like that old saying: 'How a person does one thing is...
Grissom:... how a person does everything.'
(They may have found a piece of bone and Grissom sticks it in his mouth)

Thug: [After Brass is questioning them for beating a taxi driver who was supposedly fleeing a crime scene] If we were wearing badges, you guys would be giving us medals.
Brass: If you guys are wearing badges, I'm playing left wing in the NHL.

Tom Haviland: I get one phone call, right?
Grissom: Sure. Just like in the movies.

Walter Gordon: You know, I was under the impression that it was against departmental policy to negotiate with terrorists.
Grissom: Are you a terrorist?
Walter Gordon: Depends. [Shines flashlight in Grissom's face] Are you terrified?
Grissom: Look, I really don't want to talk to you. Where is my guy?
Walter Gordon: Oh, so he's "your guy", huh?
Grissom: Yes, he is. Where is he buried?
Walter Gordon: Are you two close?
Grissom: That's none of your business.
Walter Gordon: What does "Nick Stokes" mean to you? How do you feel when you see him in that coffin? Does your soul die every time you push that button? How do you feel knowing that there's nothing you can do to get him out of that hell? Helpless? Useless? Impotent?
[Grissom is silent]
Walter Gordon: Good. Welcome to my world. [Opens jacket, revealing Semtex strapped around him] Uh, if I were you, I'd back up a little.
[Grissom takes a step back]
[Gordon blows himself up]
Season 6

Warrick (looking at the body in the crop circle): The guy has a blindfold on.
Catherine: Pin the tail on the donkey gone wrong?

Warrick (looking at the map of registered sex offenders): Phew! That's a lot of perverts.
Nick: Get out of jail, come to Vegas.