Hart of Dixie

Dr. Zoe Hart:
[looking at an echo of the baby] And there's... there's the...

Wade Kinsella:
What? There's the what?

Dr. Zoe Hart:
[whispers] The penis

Wade Kinsella:
Baby girl has a penis? No! Is it a boy!

Dr. Zoe Hart:
We were just positive that we're having a girl, on account of me being a girl, but I can now see that wasn't a totally logic assumption

Obstetrician:
Especially for a doctor!

Lavon Hayes:
Going somewhere?

Dr. Zoe Hart:
Boston.

Lavon Hayes:
Gonna visit a friend or something?

Dr. Zoe Hart:
No. I got a cardiothorasic fellowship. My dad set it up for me.

Lavon Hayes:
So you just gonna leave in the middle of the night?

Dr. Zoe Hart:
In the morning.

Lavon Hayes:
Without saying goodbye?

Dr. Zoe Hart:
Yeah. Everyone is mad at me anyway, so who am I going to say goodbye to? Wade hates me. George chose Lemon. They both be glad I'm gone. I tried to kill Rose. Her own mother told me that. Everyone in this small town hates me... even you. You're still mad at me over what happened with Wade. Coming here caused enough drama, I don't need to make a big exit too.

Lavon Hayes:
First of all, you and me... we had an argument. We didn't break up or anything like that. And second, even if you think you were just passing through this place... you made a difference in lives here. You duck out on people without saying goodbye? People like me, and Rose. It's like saying that all this didn't happen.

Dr. Zoe Hart:
[tearing up] I'll do it. In the morning, I promise. I'll say goodbye to Rose.

George Tucker:
Okay, look, Miss Bailey

Pamela Bailey:
Pamela! Miss Bailey is my father [George and Zoe look surprised] Long story

Zoe Hart:
Yeah, that's me, with my girly Wi-Fi connection and my silly cell phone that I only use to look at pictures of ponies.

George Tucker:
Beautiful day, isn't it, Lemon?

Lemon Breeland:
Debatable

Annabeth Nass:
[Trying to cheer up Dr. Hart who is really down] At a time like this, a girl need her friends, [looking at Lemon] or anything that resembles one!

Lemon Breeland:
[to Dash] You're not a journalist, you blog about a town with roughly the population of Sesame Street.

Fudge sticks up a fudge tree