Julia: Well, you do have a flaw after all.

Harrison: Oh yeah? What's that?

Julia: Your job.

Harrison: I thought women liked doctors.

Julia: We do like lab coats, but the flying around everywhere is not so good.

Harrison: I'm only going to San Francisco for one night.

Julia: Couldn't somebody else do it, just tonight?

Harrison: No, I'm the best. If it's any consolation, when I'm fixing his heart...you can hold mine.

Julia: Oh. Thank you. Thank you.

Harrison: Hey, what are you doing? No. I can't miss my plane. No.

Julia: I can't believe you're leaving me on Valentine's Day.

Harrison: You said you had something to do.

Julia: I do have something to do. I do have something to do. I just don't know that I wanna do it. You know my friend Kara?

Harrison: Which one's Kara?

Julia: Neurotic, hot mess. She throws this annual "I Hate Valentine's Day" dinner.

It's a bit of a downer, actually.

Harrison: What's there to hate?

Julia: Nothing, if you're a handsome, divorced doctor. But for the rest of us single women, it's kind of a giant cosmic bitch slap. It's the universe saying, "Look, remember when you were 14, and you had cystic acne and braces, and you played the saxophone in the marching band, and no one would invite you to the winter formal? Well, nothing's changed."

Harrison: I would crawl over cut glass to take you to the winter formal. And then I would prescribe Retin-A for your skin.

Julia: That's why you're my valentine.