Eli Stone

Eli: This wasn't like a regular vision, Frank. This was like someone spiked the vision punch.

Patti: Are we suing Duke Ellington, Eli? Eli: Probably not. He's dead.

Patti: I'm sorry, Eli, but you cannot tell the people you work with that your life-threatening medical condition is back on an interoffice memo. Eli: You're right. An e-mail would be faster.

Eli: Maggie, my co-workers already think I'm marble-deprived. I don't think that representing a dog on my first case back is going to change that perception.

Eli: I'm so glad we came. It's totally worth 2 grand a ticket to be surrounded by a bunch of drunks with sausage breath. Can't get that at home. Even in HD. Nate: It's the last game in Marvel Stadium. Where's your sense of history? Eli: I left it at the gate with that guy with the wand who frisked my privates.

Grace: This is mustard. This should come right out. What's this? Cough syrup. Who threw cough syrup on you? Eli: I didn't see. I was blinded by slushee in the eyes.

Jordan: Speaking of last week, have you given our discussion any further thought. Eli: I did, and I had a brainstorm. For every hour of pro bono work, our associate get 30 minutes credit to their billables quota. Jordan: Hmm, as brainstorms go, that's a little more like a drizzle.

Eli: Well, see, I figured you never actually got to eat your hot dog, and for some people it's the best part of the game, so... Grace: You brought me a dozen, like... Eli: Like roses. Exactly. Only smellier.

Maggie: Come on. Patti: Get her to court before her head explodes.

Matt: Stone, your aneurysm... was it contagious? Eli: Excuse me? Matt: Jordan, your ex-future father-in-law, you know, recently returned from his near-death experience. He wants to take the firm pro bono, which is Latin for "buy cheaper suits."