Dr. Foreman [to House]: What are you writing?
Dr. House [while writing]: Nothing.
If you know the diagnosis, why don't you...?
[finishes writing and sits back upright] How are you gonna learn to swim unless I take off your floaties and throw you into shark-infested waters? [licks the envelope]
You can't know what's wrong after a 30 second perusal of his file.
Apparently you can't. Now what's a game without rules? Uhh, no tagbacks, no biting, you get one test each and the clock runs until lunch. [writes something on the envelope, gets up, and goes over to the whiteboard] If I'm right, he'll still be alive. If I'm wrong, this is a very cruel game. [he uses a magnetic paperclip container to hold the envelope in place. On the envelope is written "THE GAME IS A ITCHY FOOT."]
