Grey's Anatomy Love Quotes

They say your life flashes before your eyes right before you die, you see things in your life, the important moments --the moments that tested you, the moments that made you who you are. I don't know about my life flashes before me, I was thinking about my white coat... it's the moment my life started, same fitting should be on me when it ends We're all gonna die. We don;t get much say on how or when, but we do get to decide how we are gonna live. So do it, decide. Is this the life you want to live? Is this the person you want to love? Is this the best you can be? Can you be stronger? kinder? more compassionate? Decide. Breathe in...Breathe out...and decide.

There comes a moment when it's more than just a game and you either take that step forward or turn around and walk away. I could quit, but here's the thing... I love the playing field.

It was a shitshow of emotional carnage, just pure tear-soaked chaos worse than any Grey’s Anatomy episode.

Even now I believe for the most part, love is about choices. It's about putting down the poison and the dagger and making your own happy ending, most of the time, and that sometimes despite all your best choices and all your best intentions, fate wins anyway.

I'm still in love with you. I tried not to be, it didn't work...I want another chance. I'm in love with you. Mark, i- i have a boyfriend. I know. I'm saying you can have a husband.

You already have it, you have that thing everybody else wants. You can take it for granted but let me tell you if you didn't, if you couldn't be with the person that you love I guarantee that hearing him promise to love you and honor you and cherish you no matter what, it would be pretty much all you could think about.

You didn’t love her. You just didn’t want to be alone. Or maybe, maybe she was just good for your ego. Or, maybe she made you feel better about your miserable life, but you didn’t love her. Because you don’t destroy people you love. Grey’s Anatomy

Sometimes I worry that the TV series I watch are more real to me than my own life. That the love life, family, and work problems of Meredith from Grey's Anatomy are more tangible than my own.

Let me get this straight,” I hear the swish of her bathwater. “Three days ago, you called me to help you with the seating chart for your posh, high society Atlanta wedding, and today you’re in Triple Falls because you had a dream, tore up your wedding dress, broke up with your fiancé, decided to sell your father’s business to a man who ripped you apart, and shortly after your college boyfriend confessed he was still in love with you?” “Yes, I know it sounds crazy but—” “Crazy? No, crazy would be a downgrade. This is a late-season Grey’s Anatomy episode. Everything but the kitchen sink.

How’s your residency going? Is it anything like Grey’s Anatomy? You used to joke about keeping a journal listing all the show’s inaccuracies once you were a resident. If you actually have one, I’d love to see it...

This taking too long. What is this? A filler episode of Grey’s Anatomy? She’s in a naked dress. They’ll die before they date at this rate. -Monique trying to get Caroline and James to speak to each other.

Stacy McKee (who is one of the new head writers at Grey’s Anatomy but started out way back in the beginning as the assistant on the show) IS the kind of mom who does crafts with her kids and puts photos of them up on Pinterest and Instagram. She works long, hard hours but still, you go into her office and as she’s talking scripts and story, she’s hot-gluing beads onto a princess cape for her daughter. I always furrow my brow and ask her why the hell she is doing this. Why? Or why the hell is she delicately hand-painting vistas onto Easter eggs? Or why is she doing any number of crazy amazing crafty things Stacy does for her kids? For the love of wine, why? Stacy will furrow her brow back at me, equally confused. “Why wouldn’t I?” she says. See, Stacy LOVES doing this stuff. She’d probably do it even if she didn’t have kids. Oh wait. I knew her back when she didn’t have kids and she WAS doing it. Stacy once spent days making incredibly lifelike renderings of all the Grey’s Anatomy characters out of pipe cleaners. PIPE CLEANERS. So it’s not about working moms vs. nonworking moms. It’s about people who love hot-gluing beads on capes vs. people who do not know what a hot-glue gun is. And it’s not even that. It’s about the non–glue gun people not assuming the glue gun people are judging them, and vice versa. Maybe don’t start out with your weapons raised. Maybe that Perfect PTA Mom didn’t even realize that homemade brownies could be a hardship. Maybe instead of yelling obscenities at the mention of homemade brownies, it would be better to stand up and gently point out that not everyone has the time or the bandwidth to make brownies.

The only sounds at the late hour were the faint jingle of a phone ringing in the nurses’ station, the ping of an elevator, the faraway sound of the wheels of a cart, and the gentle beep of Brandon’s vital signs monitor. They wouldn’t allow any flowers or personal items in the ICU, but Sloan had snuck in an engagement photo. It sat on the table next to the bed. Her and Brandon on the beach, the surf crashing around their feet, her tattooed arm over his shoulder, them looking at each other. Both of them laughing. I looked back at him and sighed. “You’re going to have some gnarly scars, buddy.” They’d started the skin grafts for the road rash on his arm. “But you’ll get to do everything you planned to do with your life. One of us is going to get the girl. I’ll help you any way I can. Even if I have to wheel your ass to the altar.” I could picture his smile. With any luck I’d see it in a few hours. A knock on the door frame turned me around in my chair. “Hey, cutie.” Valerie came into the room for her vitals check. She turned the lights up, and I stood and stretched. As if sleeping in a chair wasn’t hard enough, the activity every two hours was the final kicker. I wouldn’t call anything I did on these overnight shifts sleeping. Maybe napping, but not sleeping. Every two hours Brandon was moved. They checked his airways, changed out bags, looked at his vitals. I don’t know how Sloan was handling doing this almost nightly for the last three weeks. Sloan was a good woman. I’d always liked her, but now she’d earned my respect, and I was grateful Brandon and Kristen had her. “Did you decide what day you want to bring the kids to the station?” I asked Valerie, yawning. She cycled the blood pressure cuff on Brandon’s arm and smiled. “I’m thinking Tuesday. You on shift Tuesday?” “Yup.” She wrote down some notes on Brandon’s chart and then gave me a raised eyebrow. “Any updates with your lady friend?” I laughed a little. “No.” The whole nursing staff knew about my depressing love life. I’d gotten hit on a few too many times by some of the younger nurses. I couldn’t claim to have a girlfriend, and I wasn’t married, so it was either “I’m gay” or “I’m in love with that girl over there.” I’d gone with the latter, and now I wished I’d said I was gay. They didn’t know why Kristen wouldn’t date me, just that she wouldn’t. It had turned into the favorite topic of the ICU. A real-life episode of Grey’s Anatomy. I rarely got through a Brandon visit without it coming up. The drama escalated when Kristen had been hit on by the nurses’ favorite single orthopedic surgeon. According to the nurses’ gossip circuit, Kristen told him to go fuck himself. And apparently she’d actually said, “Go fuck yourself.” After that everyone was sure she was holding out for me. Only I knew better.