Sam: Carla. I'd like you to meet Woody Boyd. Woody, this is Carla Tortelli.
Woody: Hi, ma'am.
Carla: Ma'am? What's that supposed to mean?
Woody: I believe it's a term of respect.
Carla: No wonder it sounded so weird. Who is this guy?
Sam: Well, he's a friend of Coach's, and he's looking for work. What do you think? You wanna give him a try?
Woody: Me? Mr. Malone, this is the proudest day of my life! I'd work like a slave and I wouldn't take anything more than minimum wage. And, of course, I'd wash your car. And if you ever need someone to just, you know, yell at, I'm your man.
Carla: I think we better keep him, Sam. He wouldn't be safe on the streets.
Woody: Thanks, Carla.

Alan: Carla, give me a beer.
Carla: Right.
Alan: What's the story with Sam? Isn't he back from Italy yet?
Carla: Nah. Three whole days, and we haven't heard a word.
Cliff: He just went there to stop Diane and Frasier from getting married. Don't know what could be taking him so long.
Carla: Maybe Frasier's still thanking him.

Cliff: Hey, Norman. You seem pretty chipper today. A few notches up from your usual abysmal.
Norm: Well, thank you, Cliffie. That's because I have a little bit of good news here.
Cliff: What's that?
Norm: Well, you know how I've been trying to get Vera pregnant? Congratulate me.
Sam: Hey!
Cliff: Have a cigar.
Sam: Whoa. Well, I think this calls for some champagne here.
Norm: Well, thank you, Sam.
Sam: What sex do you want it to be?
Norm: Sex? Come on, I thought you just asked for the vintage. You know? Wait, wait. I see your mistake. Vera's not with child. She just told me I didn't have to try to get her pregnant anymore. Let's celebrate! Come on! Party!

Woody: [enters] This is amazing. Hundreds of bottles. Red and white wine glasses. High-grade Naugahyde stool covers. And a brass rail. And a big-city bartender with a joke at the ready.
Sam: You from out of town?
Woody: Okay, I'll bite. Yeah, I'm from out of town.
Sam: Can I help you?
Woody: Well, that went right over my head.

Sam: Can I get you something to drink here?
Woody: Well, a soda pop would be good.
Sam: Soda pop. All right, all right.
Woody: See, I got in the habit of writing to the bars in the big city, in the hopes of landing a job, and once I wrote a letter to Cheers, and Coach answered my letter. I liked him right away. Maybe it was because he was the only one who wrote back to me.
Sam: Woody, did you say you were looking for work?
Woody: Well, actually, I came to Boston on a fact-finding tour. See, I tend bar back home in Indiana. Well, it's not a bar exactly. It's more like a pigsty with a jukebox, if we had a jukebox.

Sam: What the hell. Woody, come on around here and we'll check you out.
Woody: [jumps over the bar] You won't regret it, Mr. Malone. I love bartending. You get behind a bar, and right away strangers are your best friends. You know, they call you great names, like "buddy" and "pal" and "chief" and "ace."
Sam: Here's your apron, sport.
Woody: Sport! Another great one! But listen, let me make one thing clear. One mistake, and I'm out on my butt.
Norm: Hey, Cliffie, next time you try to imitate that helicopter, I think you ought to chalk up the cues before you stick them in your ears.
Cliff: You kidding, Norm? I'd look pretty silly with chalk in my ears.
Sam: Cliff, Norm, Woody Boyd. Woody's gonna be helping us out around here.
Cliff: Hey. Nice to meet you. All right.
Woody: What's your pleasure, gents? Make it anything you want. Now, where I come from, all anyone ever drinks is beer. Beer's fine, but any monkey can pull down a tap. Why study years to be an ace mixologist just to serve beer after beer after beer? So, what will it be?
Norm: Beer.
Cliff: Same.

Norm: Ooh. Frasier W. Crane.
Cliff: Oh, the man who won the hand of Diane Chambers.
Carla: And found out he had to keep the rest of her.

Woody: What's your pleasure?
Frasier: My life is devoid of pleasure.
Woody: You need a good laugh. Are you from out of town?
Frasier: Just give me a whiskey, punk.
Woody: [chuckles] Punk! Oh, that's great!
Frasier: [downs the shot] Where's Malone? I mean, where's my good friend Sam?
Woody: Mr. Malone's in his office. You want me to give him a buzz?
Frasier: No, no, I'll surprise him. Oh, by the way, any peculiar noises you hear coming out of that room, don't let it bother you. It's just a couple of old friends having a little fun together.
Woody: Yo. [to Norm & Cliff] I think my joke loosened him up a little.

Sam: Boy, you're really bent out of shape over this, aren't you? Just out of totally idle curiosity, whatever did happen to Diane?
Frasier: Well, I was recently informed by my mentor, Dr. Bennett Ludlow, whose care I'm now under, incidentally.
Sam: And believe me, he's doing a heck of a job.
Frasier: He told me that she's at St. Anselm's Abbey, an hour outside of Boston, with the Sisters of the Divine Severity.
Sam: Oh, whoa, whoa, wait. You can't be a nun if you've already...
Frasier: Oh, she's not becoming a nun, you idiot! She's working there. She's cleaning, serving meals, wearing sackcloth, that sort of thing.
Sam: I'll be damned.
Frasier: You see, after she left me, Diane embarked upon a spree of decadence in Italy. I'd hear stories about dancing on tables in cafes, swimming in public fountains, cavorting with counts and soccer players. Well, now she's doing penance for la dolce vita. She's seeking peace. I hope she's found it.
Sam: Diane, dancing on tabletops? You mean my...? Your...? Our...? The Diane?
Frasier: Yes, all of them.

Sam: You really mean this, don't you?
Diane: Yes, I do.
Sam: Well, I guess that's what matters. I guess I better be going. I recognized one of the ladies, and I think that I'm the reason why she's here in the first place.