Farewell, Gil

Gil: Sometimes I can be a little thoughtless.
Catherine: I wouldn't say that. Not just any guy would walk a girl to the morgue.

Gil: I was flying to a seminar in New Hampshire a couple of summers ago. I was sitting in the plane next to a Philosophy Professor from Harvard. He told me this story about how every morning he takes a leak right after his three-hour philosophy class. He flushed the toilet there'd be this tiny brown spider fighting for its life against the swirling water. He came back the next day, flush. Same spider, clawing its way back from oblivion. A week goes by, he decides to liberate the spider. Grabs a paper towel, scoops him up and sets him on the floor in the corner of the stall. Comes back the next day and what do you think happened to the spider?
Warrick: Dead.
Gil: On his back, eight legs up. Why? Because one life imposed itself on another. Right then, I realized where we stand. For the first time I understood our role. We don't impose our will. We don't impose our hopes on the evidence.

Nick: People are pigs.
Gil: Don't insult the pigs, Nick. They're actually very clean.

Gil: My bugs are my babies, my children.

[Dr. Robbins has received a human head in the mail]
[Grissom walks into the room]
Gil: I heard you got some head.

[liquid from the trunk of a car containing two corpses splashes up onto Greg's face and into his mouth]
Sara: Technically, that makes you a cannibal. Grissom would be proud.
Greg: Grissom would have tasted it on purpose.

Gil: This guy fell to his death wearing prescription eyeglasses. Jumpers take their glasses off. Suicide is the ultimate form of selfishness. It's unlikely anyone cowardly enough to take his own life would be brave enough to watch his own death.

Gil: I got one of these chem labs when I turned six. Almost blew up the house.

Gil: I come here for calamari.
Catherine: Oh, alone?
Gil: No, I sometimes have a beer with it.

Gil: Let me tell you something, numbert. You're twice the age of these kids, and half of them couldn't find their own ass with a map. You prey on innocent children, concocting God-knows-what from God-knows-where, selling Russian Roulette in a bottle and you think we came all the way out here to bust you for possession, you dumb punk. I'm gonna get you for murder. Cool.

Gil [to Nick]: You know for a ladies' man, you don't know much about bone structure.

Gil: If just one person had stopped and taken the time to look at the guy, to listen to him, to figure out what was wrong with him, it might not have happened. It took five people to kill him, but it would only have taken one person to save his life.


Leaving the Crime Scene by Lynette Rice
Entertainment Weekly / Jan.16-09
The reason I'm leaving is because I'm afraid I'm becoming too comfortable. It's CSI - they pay me a lot of money, and I don't have to work very hard anymore. I've got it all figured out. And I just realized, God, as an artist, I'm going to atrophy. You do anything for nine years, it becomes somewhat rote. I didn't want to be on the show because they were paying me money and I liked the money. I didn't want to be on the show because it saved me from having to go look for other jobs. Just didn't want it. It was too safe for me at this point. So I needed to try and break that, and the way to do that, for me, is the theater. -William Petersen