Cliff: Va-va-va-voom, eh, Norm?
Norm: I beg your pardon?
Cliff: Hot babe there at twelve o'clock. I think it's the next notch on the old Clavin bedpost.
Carla: The only notches on your bedpost come from banging your head in frustration.

Diane: Excuse me, Sam? I'm afraid I was all too brief in my response to your inquiry about Cezanne. Backgrounds were always very important to him, even during his early period. Eventually however, he completely broke with Renaissance perspective.
Sam: A-ha. Now, that makes sense. Thank you very much.
Diane: But that's still not the reason his paintings looked, as you so eloquently put it, "like he was goofed on skunk weed."
Sam: You know what I was talking about.
Diane: No, no, I'm not putting you down. I think your new-found interest in the arts is completely laudable. And I'd like to think that I had something to do with it.
Sam: Well, you did.
Diane: Keep it up, big lug.

Sam: Hey, Diane, how about those pointillists, huh?
Diane: Oh. I think Seurat was the finest naturalist of his time.
Sam: Yeah, you and me both, sister.

Carla: Sammy, I hate to cast a shadow over your good time, but have you given any thought to who will be making drinks tomorrow while you're making whoopee?
Sam: No, damn. I didn't think about that. Well, you can handle yourself behind the bar, can't you?
Carla: Give up waiting on tables? Aw, I get my heaviest tips in my third trimester.

Diane: Sam? If it makes it any easier, I know what you're going to ask.
Sam: You do?
Diane: Yes. I overheard your conversation, perhaps I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help it. You're going to ask about this weekend, aren't you?
Sam: Yeah. Listen, I know the first time we tried this, it didn't turn out too hot... But I'm going to take full responsibility for that.
Diane: Well... I'm sure that I was at fault, too.
Sam: Well, whatever, whatever. I think the important thing is that it'll be better this time, now you know where everything is.
Diane: Well, I suppose that's true.

Sam: Yeah, I'll tell you what. If you like this weekend, maybe we can talk about making it permanent. What do you say?
Diane: Permanent? Is that you want, Sam?
Sam: Well, I'm not making any promise, here. Let's just see how the weekend goes, OK? Is tomorrow at three okay? Because I already made reservations.
Diane: I know. I know. Sam, I'm just overwhelmed.
Sam: Oh, come on. You don't have to be nervous. Listen, after your first couple of drinks, you'll relax, get into, and I think you'll actually enjoy it.
Diane: Well, it does seem to help. Oh, Sam!
Sam: What, what, what?
Diane: Oh, everything's going so fast. My mind is a tumult. I feel like we're on a runaway train. Where will it end? I've got to think about this. I'm sorry.
Sam: Boy, you really are taking this seriously. Hey, listen. Don't worry, if you break anything, I'm fully insured.

Paula: You know, it's my first weekend with this guy and I just hope I'm not making a big mistake. Frankly, he's got me puzzled. I start to think he's a big, dumb jerk and then he says something kind of intelligent.
Diane: Well, I'm lucky, I know mine's a dumb jerk. But we have something that just won't die. Kinda like crab grass.
Paula: Well, that's a lovely thought.
Diane: You know, I know I may be making the biggest mistake of my life. I'm seeing an eminent psychiatrist now.
Paula: Well, so am l. Is it helping you?
Diane: No, no. I mean romantically.
Paula: Oh.
Diane: And I may be giving all of that up just to rekindle a mostly physical relationship whose only appeal may be its danger.

Sam: What's with the suitcase?
Diane: Oh, that's not my suitcase. Who said it was my suitcase? No, no.
Sam: Well, it looks like yours.
Diane: Oh, well, there are a million of these around. No, this one belongs to this gentleman. Sir? Really. Now don't leave this lying around. Anybody could just walk right off with it.
Al: It'll never happen again.
Diane: Well, have fun, Sam.
Sam: Yeah, yeah. Thank you, I will. [exits]
Diane: [to Al as he rumages around in Diane's suitcase] You! [slaps his hand]
Al: Still, that's the most fun I've had since 1958.

Norm: Delicious, Sammy. Fortunately, I've saved room for another.
Sam: Coming up. Whoa, gentlemen, the keg is dry.
Cliff: Whoa. A new keg coming out, gents.
[After Larry starts humming taps, the other patrons join in as Sam goes to replace the keg]
Cliff: We'll miss you.
Sam: Hey, guys, do we have to do this every time?
Cliff: We don't have to, Sammy, it's an honor and a privilege.
Larry: The keg is dead. Long live the keg.
[The guys start humming "Hail to the Chief"]
Cliff: Norm? Normie, are you OK?
Norm: Oh, Cliffie, I swore it wouldn't get to me this time.

Paula: Hi, I'm Paula Nelson.
Norm: Oh, Norm Peterson.
Paula: Norm.
Cliff: Hi. Cl... cl... Cl... cl...
Norm: This smooth talker is Cliff Clavin.
Paula: Hello, Cliff.
Cliff: [mumbling]
Paula: May I buy you and your immigrant friend a beer?