[At Kevin's funeral, Monk and Natalie are looking at a photo of Kevin]
That's a nice picture.
I took that picture.
Oh.
Took me two hours. I wanted to get one where he wasn't talking.
Ha, well, you did it.
Actually, I had to Photoshop it.
S7Mr. Monk and the Magician
[Experimenting with one of Torini's knives, Monk checks to see if it's a real knife or not by using it on Natalie. She immediately yelps as soon as the blade contacts her]
OW!
OK, this one might be real. Don't play with this one.
All right, I won't.
[Monk notices something nearby]
What is that? [He walks over to the cabinet to examine it, and suddenly Torini's voice comes booming over the loudspeaker]
[Over the speakers] It's called a Zig Zag Cabinet. I designed it myself. [Monk starts to examine the Zig Zag Cabinet more closely] Please step away from the cabinet, Mr. Monk. Secrets of the trade, you know.
[Monk and Natalie spot a machine producing fog in the other room. Torini pops up behind them and clears his throat]
How did you do that?
Misdirection, Ms. Teeger. The secret to every illusion - making the audience look where they shouldn't be looking. [Faces them] For example. [Conjures a coin out of thin air]
S7Mr. Monk Fights City Hall
[Eating a hot dog] What's that, beef or pork?
VAVendor Al
We use... [Does air quotes gesture] "meat".
Wh— why do you say it like that?
GGGeorge Gionopolis
We are required by law to put it in quotes.
[Examining the cadavers of dead tourists] I, uh, talked to a clerk at a hotel. They were staying downtown at the Best Western. He said that they were a pretty quiet couple.
Yeah, they look pretty quiet.
Yeah, but they weren't this quiet. I mean, before last night they were just regular quiet, like, when they checked into the hotel.
Randy, I know what you mean. I was trying to be wry.
Oh, sorry, my bad. Do you want to say it again?
[In an unsanitary hot dog factory] I was buried alive once.
Yeah, I remember.
I was in a box. I was underground for three hours. And that box is now the second-most frightening place I've ever been.
[Harold opens a city hall meeting by speaking about the late Councilwoman Eileen Hill]
As you all know, we lost a dear friend this week. Eileen Hill's body was discovered earlier this morning. Let us pray that the San Francisco police catch her killer and bring him or her to justice. Or if they don't catch him, let us pray that Eileen's murder was the work of a random nut job, or frustrated ex-boyfriend, and not some kind of masked vigilante who, for some reason, has a personal vendetta against the city council, and is determined to slaughter us, one member at a time, picking us off when we least expect it, using a different, yet somehow appropriate method for each of his grisly killings! Amen.
[Harold is trying to figure out the identity of Monk's new therapist]
I'm talking about your new therapist, the mystery doctor, the genius you're always raving about. Who is he? Just tell me his name.
I can't tell you. It's privileged information.
No, it's not. What happens in the session is privileged. His name isn't privileged. People recommend therapists everyday. Am I right, Natalie?
I don't know. I'm just waiting for the conversation to be over.
Ok, fine. His name is doctor... Door.
Dr. Door? Is that the best you can do? I suppose if we were standing by that alarm you would've said "Dr. Bell".
[Natalie promptly spits water in Harold's face]
Oh god, Harold! I'm so sorry!
These quotes come from Wikiquote's Monk pages and are available under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike License.