Greys Anatomy Quotes

If you want crappy things to stop happening to you, then stop accepting crap and demand something more. —CRISTINA YANG, GREY’S ANATOMY

If there's one thing I've learned over the years It's that it only takes one person...one moment to change your life forever. To change your perspective. Color your thinking. To force you to reevaluate everything you think you know. To make you ask yourself the toughest questions; Do you know who you are? Do you understand what has happened to you? Do you want to live this way?

It's a beautiful day to save lives. Let's have some fun.

The key, though, win or lose, is not to fail. And the only way to fail is not to fight. So you fight until you can’t fight anymore. Hold up you head and enter the arena, and face the enemy. Fight until you can’t fight anymore, never let go, never give up, never run, never surrender. Fight the good fight, you fight even when it seems inevitable that you’re about to go down swinging.

Why do we even try when the barriers are so high and the odds are so low? Why don't we just pack it in and go home? It'd be so, so much easier. It's because, in the end, there's no glory in easy. No one remembers easy. They remember the blood and the bones and the long, agonizing fight to the top. And that is how you become... Legendary.

One way at a time I'll try to lend these broken hands of mine give my strength, be my light.

If you aren't willing to keep looking for light in the darkest of places without stopping, even when it seems impossible, you will never succeed.

The Senior Council--" "Couldn't find its heart if it had a copy of Grey's Anatomy, X-ray vision, and a stethoscope.

next to it was a dvd called 'as i get laid dying,' which had a hospital scene on the front. it was like grey's anatomy, only with less grey and more anatomy.

I'm a human being. I make mistakes. I'm flawed; we all are.

Too often, the thing you want most is the one thing you can't have. Desire leaves us heartbroken. It wears us out. Desire can wreck your life. But as tough as wanting something can be, the people who suffer the most are those who don't know what they want.

We're adults. How did that happen and how can we make it stop?

I didn't become a doctor because I wanted to be God. I became a doctor because I wanted to save lives.

At some point you have to make a decision. Boundaries don't keep other people out, they fence you in. Life is messy. That's how we're made. So you can waste your life drawing lines... or you can live your life crossing them.

We take our miracles where we find them. We reach across the gap and sometimes, against all odds, against all logic, we touch.

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.

I'm all glued back together now. I make no apologies for how I chose to repair what you broke. You don't get to call me a whore.

Change. We don't like it. We fear it, but we can't stop it from coming. We either adapt to change or we get left behind. It hurts to grow, anybody who tells you it doesn't is lying, but here's the truth sometimes the more things change the more they stay the same. And sometimes, oh, sometimes change is good. Sometimes change is everything.

Look at me in the eye. I'm a human being. I make mistakes. I'm flawed. We all are.

There are days that make the sacrifices seem worthwhile... and then there are the days where everything feels like a sacrifice. And then there are the sacrifices that you can't even figure out why you're making.

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.

We can choose to be afraid of it, to stand there trembling not moving, assuming the worst that can happen or we can step forward into the unknown and assume it will be brilliant.

Pain. You just have to ride it out, hope it goes away on its on. Hope the wound that caused it heals. There are no solutions, no easy answers. You just breath deep and wait for it subside. Most of the time pain can be managed, but sometimes the pain gets you when you least expect it, hits way below the belt and doesn't let up. Pain. You just have to fight through, because the truth is you can't outrun it... And life always makes more.

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.

For a kiss to be really good, you want it to mean something. You want it to be with someone you can't get out of your head. So that when your lips finally touch, you feel it everywhere.

We deny that we're tired, we deny we are scared, we deny how badly we want to succeed, and most importantly we deny that we are in denial. We only see what we want to see, and believe what we want to believe, and it works. We lie to ourselves so much that after awhile the lies start to seem like the truth. We deny so much that we can't recognize the truth right in front of our faces.

I've heard that it's possible to grow up, I've just never met anyone who's actually done it. Without parents to defy, we break the rules we make for ourselves. We throw tantrums when things don't go our way. We whisper secrets with our best friend in the dark. We look for comfort where we can find it. And we hope against all logic, against all experience, like children, we never give up hope.

It's a beautiful day to save lives

So what, you're just going to repress everything in some deep, dark, twisted place until one day you snap and you kill them? Yep That's why we are friends

Just like we need food and water, humans need each other. A brain study revealed that when placed in an MRI, a patient's reward center lit up when another person sat in the room. Neurons fire when talk to someone, think about someone, and they go haywire when we hold someone's hand. Our brains and bodies are actually programmed to seek each other out and connect. So then why do so many people prefer being alone? Why do we often run for the hills when we feel the slightest connection? Why we do we feel compelled to fight what we're hardwired to do? Maybe it's because when we find someone or something to hold on to, that feeling becomes like air. And we're terrified we're going to lose it. And trust me, you can get pretty good at the alone thing. But most things are better when they're shared with someone else.

Pain comes in all forms. The small twinge, a bit of soreness, the random pain. The normal pains we live with everyday. Then there's the kind of pain you can't ignore. A level of pain so great that it blocks out everything else... Makes the rest of your world fade away, until all we can think about is how much we hurt. How we manage our pain is up to us. Pain. We anesthetize , ride it out, embrace it, ignore it, and for some of us the best way to manage pain is to just push through it.

In some ways, betrayal is inevitable. When our bodies betray us, surgery is often the key to recovery. When we betray each other, when we betray each other, the path to recovery is less clear. We do whatever it takes to rebuild the trust that was lost. And then there are some wounds, some betrayals that are so deep, so profound, that there's no way to repair what was lost. And when that happens. There's nothing left to do but wait.

This isn't real, is it? I'm just gonna keep my eyes close because this is like that moment in the morning when you first wake up and you're still half asleep and everything seems... things are possible, dreams feel true and for that one moment between waking and sleeping anything can be real, and then you open your eyes and the sun hits you and then you realize that... I'm just gonna keep my eyes closed.

Together they made cold cuts and wine and spent the rest of the night on the couch watching old episodes of Grey’s Anatomy.

I'm not happy and bubbly, i'm dark and cloudy.

You just have to get through high school. Because high school sucks for anyone who is the least bit different.

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.

I’m missing my baby’s first swim lesson. If I am at my daughter’s debut in her school musical, I am missing Sandra Oh’s last scene ever being filmed at Grey’s Anatomy. If I am succeeding at one, I am inevitably failing at the other. That is the trade-off. That is the Faustian bargain one makes with the devil that comes with being a powerful working woman who is also a powerful mother. You never feel 100 percent okay, you never get your sea legs, you are always a little nauseous. Something is always lost. Something is always missing. And yet. I want my daughters to see me and know me as a woman who works. I want that example set for them.

We can't help ourselves, we see a line we want to cross it. Maybe it's the thrill of trading the familiar for the unfamiliar, a sort of personal dare, only problem is, once you have crossed it's almost impossible to go back.

The thing about addiction is, it never ends well. Because eventually, whatever it is that was getting us high, stops feeling good, and starts to hurt. Still, they say you don't kick the habit until you hit rock bottom. But how do you know when you are there? Because no matter how badly a thing is hurting us, sometimes, letting it go hurts even worse.

You never know the biggest day of your life is the biggest day, not until it’s happening. You don’t recognize the biggest day of your life, not until your right in the middle of it. The day you commit to something or someone. The day you get your heart broken. The day you meet your soul mate. The day you realize there’s not enough time because you want to live forever. Those are the biggest days, the perfect days.

Yes, do as you would be done by - and not to the dark man and the white woman alone, but to the sorrel horse and the grey squirrel as well; not to creatures of your own anatomy alone, but to all creatures. You cannot go high enough, low enough nor far enough to find those whose bowed and broken beings will not rise up at the coming of the kindly heart, or whose souls will not darken at the touch of inhumanity. Do to beings below as you would be done by beings above you. They are our fellow mortals. They came out of the same mysterious womb of the past, are passing through the same dream, and are destined to the same melancholy end as we ourselves. Let us be kind and merciful to them.

Do you know who you are? Do you understand what has happened to you? Do you want to live this way?

Because you never think the last time is the last time, you think there’ll be more. You think you have forever but you don’t Grey’s Anatomy

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.

According to Elizabeth Kübler-Ross, when we are dying or have suffered a catastrophic loss, we all move through five distinctive stages of grief. We go into denial because the loss is so unthinkable, we can’t imagine it’s true. We become angry with everyone. We become angry with survivors, angry with ourselves. Then we bargain, we beg, we plead. We offer everything we have. We offer up our souls in exchange for just one more day. When the bargaining has failed and the anger is too hard to maintain, we fall into depression, despair. Until finally we have to accept that we have done everything we can. We let go. We let go and move into acceptance. … In medical school we have a hundred classes that teach us how to fight off death and not one lesson on how to go on living.

I’m so depressed,” Chelsea opened a session, one night in late April. “About your string?” Maura asked. “No.” Chelsea sighed. “Well, yes. But tonight I’m also depressed because Grey’s Anatomy just got canceled.

I remember being so pissed at you right then. Why the hell have you never taught me how to do that shit? It would have been really fucking convenient and helpful if my knowledge of medical shit didn’t only come from watching Grey’s Anatomy.

By the way, I’ve been wondering—what would my Grey’s Anatomy nickname be?” “You already have one, remember? You’re my very own Hotshot Doc.” He frowns. “But there has to be a ‘Mc’ in front of it.” “Okay then, how about Dr. McGivesHisPregnantWifeFootRubs?” “Doesn’t roll off the tongue.” “Okay…Dr. McPassesThePopcorn?” “You see how that doesn’t work, right? It has to be pithy.” I tap my chin. “Oh okay, yeah. I’ve got one now. Hear me out.” “All right.” “Are you listening?” “Yeah.” “Dr. Mc…” After a long pause, he finally asks, “You don’t have one do you?” “The good ones are already taken!” He laughs and tugs me closer. “Okay, you’re right. Let’s just stick with Hotshot.

Yatima found verself gazing at a red-tinged cluster of pulsing organic parts, a translucent confusion of fluids and tissue. Sections divided, dissolved, reorganised. It looked like a flesher embryo – though not quite a realist portrait. The imaging technique kept changing, revealing different structures: Yatima saw hints of delicate limbs and organs caught in slices of transmitted dark; a stark silhouette of bones in an X-ray flash; the finely branched network of the nervous system bursting into view as a filigreed shadow, shrinking from myelin to lipids to a scatter of vesicled neurotransmitters against a radio-frequency MRI chirp. There were two bodies now. Twins? One was larger, though – sometimes much larger. The two kept changing places, twisting around each other, shrinking or growing in stroboscopic leaps while the wavelengths of the image stuttered across the spectrum. One flesher child was turning into a creature of glass, nerves and blood vessels vitrifying into optical fibres. A sudden, startling white-light image showed living, breathing Siamese twins, impossibly transected to expose raw pink and grey muscles working side by side with shape-memory alloys and piezoelectric actuators, flesher and gleisner anatomies interpenetrating. The scene spun and morphed into a lone robot child in a flesher's womb; spun again to show a luminous map of a citizen's mind embedded in the same woman's brain; zoomed out to place her, curled, in a cocoon of optical and electronic cables. Then a swarm of nanomachines burst through her skin, and everything scattered into a cloud of grey dust. Two flesher children walked side by side, hand in hand. Or father and son, gleisner and flesher, citizen and gleisner... Yatima gave up trying to pin them down, and let the impressions flow through ver. The figures strode calmly along a city's main street, while towers rose and crumbled around them, jungle and desert advanced and retreated. The artwork, unbidden, sent Yatima's viewpoint wheeling around the figures. Ve saw them exchanging glances, touches, kisses – and blows, awkwardly, their right arms fused at the wrists. Making peace and melting together. The smaller lifting the larger on to vis shoulders – then the passenger's height flowing down to the bearer like an hourglass's sand.

And what is the popular color for gowns this Season?” he asked with a smile when it became necessary to announce himself. She gave a little start, and when she raised her face to look up at him, her cheeks were pink, her eyes wide. She looked, for lack of a better comparison, like a child caught doing something she oughtn’t. “Oh! Hello, Grey.” She glanced away. “Um, blue seems to be very favorable this year.” Arching a brow, he nodded at the periodical in her hand. “Beg pardon. I thought you were reading a ladies’ magazine.” “I am,” she replied with a coy smile. “But fashion is not one of its main areas of interest.” With an expression like hers-very much like the Cheshire cat in that book by Lewis Carroll-he doubted it was an article on housekeeping that put such becoming color in her cheeks. “May I?” he asked, holding out his hand. Her grip on the magazine tightened, reluctant to give it up. “Only if you promise not to tell Mama you saw me reading it.” Oh, this was trouble. Still, it was none of his business what a grown woman of three and twenty read. He was curious, that was all. “I promise.” She hesitated, then put the pages into his hand. Placing his fingers between the thin sheaves to mark her spot, Grey flipped to the cover. Christ on a pony! The magazine looked fairly harmless-the sketch on the front showed a demure young lady in a stylish gown and hat, sitting on a park bench. Only upon closer inspection could one notice that the object of her attention-and rapturous smile-was the young man bathing in the lake just on the edge of the page. He was bare-chested-quite possibly bare everywhere, but that key part of anatomy was carefully hidden with a line of text that read, “Ten ways to keep a gentleman at home-and in bed.” He didn’t want to see what she was reading. He had heard of this magazine before. Voluptuous was a racy publication for women, filled with erotic stories, advice, and articles about sexual relationships, how to conduct oneself to avoid scandal, etc. He could take her to task for reading it, but what would be the point? No doubt the information in it would serve her wisely someday. He gave the magazine back to her. “I have to confess, I’m a little surprised to find you reading such…material.” She shrugged. “I was curious. My parents were so happy in their marriage, so very much the opposite of most of what I’ve heard. If I’m to make a match as good as theirs, I need to know as much as I can about how to have a satisfying marriage.” Grey almost groaned. The image of Rose “satisfying” herself filled his mind with such clarity it was difficult to remember he’d never actually seen such a delightful sight. His body stiffened at the delectable images his mind conjured, and he had to fold his hands in front of him to hide his growing arousal.

Rather, the society was wide open to popular Western culture at the very time when it was being drawn towards conservatism and increased religiosity. The Cairene and Alexandrian middle-class family would watch the afternoon lesson of Sheikh Al-Sharaawi only to switch channels later to watch the evening episode of Dallas or Dynasty, and later Grey's Anatomy or Desperate Housewives. As large segments of society became participants in the new consumerist waves,13 they were also presented with archaic, debilitated views of ‘a return to Islam’.

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.

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

– Don’t worry, Doc. I’ve seen like three episodes of Grey’s Anatomy, so i’m practically a licensed doctor. Now, be a good girl and bend over, show Dr. Preppy that ass.

You're building a boat... They're gonna sail away from us. It's inevitable. Our job is to build a boat strong enough that, when they decide to, they can get back to us safely. (Owen Hunt's mom in Grey's Anatomy TV show)

I actually might hate him" "My teacher said hating someone is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die

Do you know what you’re doing?’ It would have been nice to reply with, ‘Well, I’ve never done an operation before, but I’ve seen heaps on Grey’s Anatomy and I’m really keen to give one a crack,’ but the only time I manage witty repartee is in the privacy of my own bedroom, when I’m imagining how the conversation might have gone if only I was brave. ‘Yes,’ I said gravely, drawing anaesthetic into a syringe. ‘I’ve done lots of caesareans. My last job was at a small-animal practice in England.

The maxillary muscles run from the sagittal crest at the top of the skull to an insertion on the mandible,” I thought, dimly recalling the description from Grey’s Anatomy.

Oh, wait till you meet this guy. Ever watch that show? The medical drama?" "ER?" "No, the one with more sex." "Grey's Anatomy?

Just when we think we’ve figured things out, the universe throws us a curveball. —Meredith Grey, Grey’s Anatomy

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.

There comes a time when the desire to rest overcomes the desire to live.

Do you know who you are? Do you know where you are? Do you understand what has happened to you? Do you want to live this way?

The top differentiating topic is what we have called human closeness, and that closeness can exist in any type of relationship. It turns out that this topic (and not the sex scenes in the “Red Room of Pain”) actually makes up 21 percent of Fifty Shades of Grey. James was therefore writing in a different way from many other authors whose novels are labeled “erotica.

Noah: Yeah, I think he’s decided you’re his. Arsen: His what? Noah: His person. It’s a thing. A Mulvaney thing. And a Grey’s Anatomy thing. But for the purpose of this conversation, it's a Mulvaney thing. They’re big on claiming people. I think this is him, like, claiming you.

Do you think you could put your Grey’s Anatomy reenactment on pause so we can go?

Have you seen the episode of Grey’s Anatomy where McDreamy dies?

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.

You can die from hiccups, for real. I'm a fake doctor who writes fake medicine for tv so i know stuff and I'm telling you we killed Merediths step mother from hiccups and that could happen to me.

She pictured her favorite show, Grey’s Anatomy.

Rae Lynn was a Gemini. And a night person. Her favorite drink was a strawberry margaritas and her favorite perfume was straight vanilla extract... Her favorite movie star used to be Mel Gibson, but now that he'd had such an obvious mid-life crisis, it was Matthew McConaughey and she felt too much loyalty to ER to even start on Grey's Anatomy. If she were a Crayola Crayon, she's be bluebell. And if she was a kind of weather, she's be the rain when it spits. She couldn't even remember her natural hair color, and she twirled spaghetti, not cut it. And if she knew the world was ending tomorrow she'd go out and eat a whole pecan pie and not care if it gave her a migraine. Jane didn't know if Rae Lynn preferred her men shy and inexperienced, but she hoped so. They all hoped so. If only Rae Lynn could see past Jimmy's deficits to the deeply kind and honorable man who dwelt inside.

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.