Lilith: [on the phone] I'm sorry. Please continue.
Rebecca: You know, Sam and I are trying to have a baby. All right, tonight when we were... Just when things got all you know, heated and involved, well he left for no apparent reason. I mean I don't think Sam was turned on.
Lilith: Oh, my God. The seventh sign.

Carla: Phone call for you, Chalk Face.
Lilith: Thank you... Velcro Top. I've been waiting to use that.

Sam: Hey, uh why don't you have the, uh, smokers sitting in the smoking section?
Woody: Oh, of course. Where's my head?
Carla: Probably in the pumpkin patch wondering when the mix-up occurred.

Rebecca: [on the phone] Lilith, what am I doing wrong? A- Am l, am I not hot enough? Am I not sexy enough?
Lilith: Actually, Rebecca, perhaps you're too sexy.
Rebecca: What do you mean? And thank you.
Lilith: Well, Sam is the type of person for whom sex has always been down and dirty. Now that he's trying to father a child, dirty sex is the furthest thing from his mind. He wants it clean.
Rebecca: So what do I do?
Lilith: Well, don't act hot and sexy, that's for sure. Just keep reminding him that he's making a baby. The evening should be sacred and holy. That'll get his engine running.
Rebecca: I got it, Lilith. Thank you so much.
Lilith: All right. [hangs up]
Frasier: Who was that on the phone, dear?
Lilith: I was just counseling Rebecca.
Frasier: And I was counseling Sam. Recreational versus procreational sex?
Lilith: Exactly. They're so lucky to have us.

Rebecca: You could've done both of us a favor if you had just told me what I was doing wrong.
Sam: No. Oh, come on, you weren't doing anything wrong. It wasn't you. It was me. I mean, I've had sex millions of times, but it's, it's never had a purpose before. Well, that's not true. It had a purpose, but, uh... It didn't it didn't have a goal. No, it had a goal. It just... It's complicated.

Man: [enters] Hey, everybody, guess what. My buddy just bowled a 300!
Norm: Great. Like anybody cares, huh?
Man: A round of drinks on me!
Norm: All right! Way to roll that melon, buddy!

Man: There you go. Here you go, bud. Oh, sorry, missy.
Lilith: What for? You think I won't enjoy a cigar because I'm a woman? I'll save it for the George Sand Film Festival.
Frasier: [chuckles] You see, what you don't understand is that my wife just made a a very funny literary reference to a woman that used to dress as a man, and lived in France.
Man: Was he a bowler?
Frasier: Sure. What the hell.

Norm: Sammy, we have a smoking section?
Sam: Yeah. Over by the piano.
Norm: We have a piano? [Sam points to Norm's right] Oh. I gotta turn my head more.

Sam: Woody, we're out of here. You're in charge of the bar.
Woody: Well, why bother, Sam? Whenever you put me in charge, nobody ever listens to me. I just get laughed at, and get drinks poured over my head.
Sam: If anyone does that to you, you just sic Carla on them.
Woody: I'm talking about Carla.
Sam: Oh. All right, listen up, everybody! Whenever Rebecca and I aren't in the bar, uh Woody's in charge.
[As the bar erupts in laughter, Carla pours a drink over Woody's head]
Sam: That better?
Woody: Kind of. At least it's not a margarita. Those get salt in my eyes.

Norm: Sammy's acting kind of weird, huh?
Cliff: Yeah.
Carla: Can't you beer butts figure it out? Sam's been searching for weeks to find a perfect woman to have his baby. Obviously, he's given up and asked Rebecca.
Norm: No way. Something that big, Sammy would have told us.
Lilith: Why do you assume the rest of the world lives by your outdated code of male bonding? Do you think that every man goes around telling his buddies when he decides to sire an offspring?
Norm: Frasier did.
Frasier: Anyhoo...