Dr. Thomas: If this continues to go this well, I'm prepared to put your name first.
Dr. Cristina Yang: When we publish? That's big of you.
Yang: You know, you need it more than I do. This could be your last journal article.
Thomas: Is that your version of "thank you"?
Yang: No, it's my version of "this is the end. Get while the getting's good."
Thomas: Thank God I never had children. They'd be just like you.
Thomas: I'd have drowned them like puppies in the river.
Yang: Oh, come on. I'm your dream come true.
Thomas: That ... is the truth.
Yang: You're gonna make me gag.
Thomas: Watch your dissection and don't hold your breath.
Yang: Now you’re gonna tell me when to breathe?
Thomas: You hold your breathe when you stitch. When you stop breathing, you stop thinking. It’s a mistake.
Yang: ::exhales:: I’m breathing.
Thomas: Slowly. Not like an anxious hyena.
Thomas: My name will be first.
Yang: Pfft. Saw that coming a mile away.
Thomas: You will be the surgeon of your generation. I knew it as soon as I met you. People will try to diminish you, as they did me, and they will fail. I would like it to be known in the medical community that I helped train you. Hmm?
Yang: Okay. Your name first.
Thomas: Breathe, Dr. Yang...Mediocre surgeons will see you and feel themselves wilting in your shadow. Do not shrink to console them. Do not look for friends here. You won't find them. None of these people have the capacity to understand you. They never will. If you're lucky, one day when you're old and shriveled like me, you will find a young doctor with little regard for anything but their craft. And you'll train them like I trained you. Until then, read a good book. You have greatness in you, Yang. Don't disappoint.
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