Frasier: No, in this case, I'm afraid I must agree with Rebecca.
Rebecca: Thank you, Dr. Crane.
Frasier: Well, it's- It's not for your dollar-grubbing, you know, front office, kissy face reasons, but it's because revenge is never the answer. You see, a potentially unending cycle of juvenile retaliation can only lead to a well, a kind of mob mentality, which will ultimately result in a regrettable act.
Cliff: Wait a minute, Doc. When Diane left you at the altar, aren't you the guy who enrolled her in every tape, book, and record club known to mankind?
Frasier: Yes, but that was different. The pompous witch deserved it.

Carla: Hey. What are you all sitting around here like a bunch of wimps for?
Norm: It's what wimps do.

Rebecca: Everyone just stay where you are. There are no rats. Free round of drinks on the house.
Exterminator #1: I wouldn't do that, ma'am. Those little buggers might already have gotten into your beer.
Norm: Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. I'll chance it.

Gary: Ladies and gentlemen! Ladies and gentlemen! Gary's Olde Towne Tavern is once again proud to present the finest in world-class boxing on the largest screen TV available in any bar in the greater Metropolitan Boston area! [cheering, whistling] Grab a drink, sit back, relax, and let the bloodletting begin! [patron whoops]
Announcer: [on TV] All right. The months of waiting are over. We've heard all the hype, we know how many millions are on the line. This is the big one. Here we go! [loud static burst]
Norm: [on TV] Good evening, I'm Norm Peterson.
Cliff: [on TV] And I'm Clifford C. Clavin.
Norm: Welcome to an evening of poetry. [Gary tries and fails to change the channel] We're so glad that you've chosen to ignore the fisticuffs they're watching over at Cheers right now, uh, three blocks down and on your right, drinks half price if you mention, "Gary sent me."
Gary: Tapped into the cable.
Norm: Instead, relax with us and enjoy as we read and interpret the many works of Dante Gabriel Rosetti, the famous 19th century poet and fancy guy. Clifford?
Cliff: Norman, I'd like to start with "The Ballad of the Dead Ladies."
Norm: Ah. An excellent choice.
Cliff: It's written in iambic pentathlon with, uh, rhyming couplets, every couple of couplets. "Tell me now, in what hidden way is Lady Flora the lovely Roman?"

Lilith: Then, after lunch, I had a patient. Three separate personalities, each one more boring than the other. As a matter of fact, he's the only one who can tell them apart.
Frasier: Now, Lilith, darling, let's remember our caveat. No more shop talk. It's the weekend. It's time to engage in nice, normal conversation. I'll, uh, get us some drinks. Woody?
Lilith: Why do you have this obsession with labeling everything? Normal, abnormal, weekday, weekend.
Frasier: Well, darling, I was only trying to create a certain...
Lilith: In other words, control the conversation. That's rather compulsive, isn't it?
Frasier: Well, how anal of you to notice.
Lilith: Oh, the whole world's anal to you.
Frasier: Well, what say we, uh, sleep in late tomorrow and have eggs Benedict?
Lilith: I love you.

Sam: Gary? We're here in peace. Now we want to let bygones be bygones, so we brought along some champagne to bury the hatchet. What do you say, huh?
Gary: Is that right? No tricks?
Sam: No tricks.
Gary: Wow, that's damn decent of you, Malone. Milt, some glasses.
Sam: I'll be honest with you. I mean, last night at Cheers, all we could talk about was revenge. That trophy meant a great deal to us. But then, you know, cooler heads, light of day and all that kind of thing, we just... Well, we realized that to do battle with you would just destroy both of us. At least we have the satisfaction of knowing that we, uh, we beat you in one thing. Maturity.
Gary: Oh, actually, I'm afraid you came up short there, too. I just sent a dozen roses over to Cheers with an apology note.
Sam: Oh. Oh, well.
Gary: Here's to Cheers.
Sam: No, no, no. To Gary's.
Gary: Yeah, to Gary's!
[As Gary and his patrons drink champagne from the glasses, it dribbles down the front of their shirts]

Rebecca: Everybody hold on. There are no rats here.
Lilith: Oh, of course, Rebecca, we believe you. [to the exterminator] If you should run across any white ones, about yea big, I'd be happy to give you four dollars apiece for them.
Exterminator #1: What do you use them for?
Carla: Snacks.

Rebecca: I happen to think Gary made a lot of sense. Besides, he's kind of cute.
Sam: Cute?! You think Gary's cute?
Rebecca: Yeah, he's got a real cool face and a nice body. He looks kind of like an athlete.
Sam: Hey, what am l?
Rebecca: Jealous.
[When Rebecca enters her office, there are sheep all over the place]
Rebecca: Excuse me. [sheep bleating] [screams] There are sheep in my office!
Norm: Whoa, sheep. Ho-ho! You got to admire that, huh?
Woody: I thought it smelled like home.
Rebecca: I'm gonna get him. I'm going to rip his head off.
Sam: Aw, but he's so cute.
Rebecca: And then I'm going to tie him up, and I'm going to take a lighter, and I'm going to torch him from the tip of his toes to the top of his head.
Sam: How come you never do stuff like that to me?

Woody: Carla, you look spiffy. You going out tonight?
Carla: Yeah, Eddie and I are catching a movie. This is his last night in town. He's going out on the road again with the ice show.
Cliff: Uh-oh.
Carla: What's that supposed to mean?
Cliff: Oh, nothing. Well, you know, I get this image of, you know, chorus girls in skimpy costumes, you know, skating around, lonely husband on the road, far away from his, uh, connubial connubials, if you know what I mean. Well, y- you're not worried?
Carla: Not at all. I know my Eddie, and I trust him completely. He is the sweetest, most faithful, loving husband in the whole world, and I thank God every day he married me. If ever there was a one-woman man, it's Eddie LeBec.
Norm: Hey, Carla, what movie you going to see?
Carla: Fatal Attraction.

Alan: Today is our anniversary.
Cliff: This is the day, two years ago where Cheers beat that scourge down the road, Gary's Olde Towne Tavern, in bowling! [cheering, whooping]
Rebecca: That's- That's the big deal?
Norm: It's the only time we ever won anything.
Rebecca: I take it that they've beaten us at things.
Norm: At everything. Touch football, softball, darts, ugliest toes, you name it...
Sam: I think the current tally is 173 to one, but we are presently on a winning streak.