Cliff: Well, that- That did sort of hurt my back a little bit. You know, I wondered if you might... Uh, no, never mind. I could never ask you.
Carla: Oh, no, Cliff. Uh, would you like me to get you something for your back? Some, uh, heating pad or some Doan's Pills?
Cliff: Well, well, you know a little, uh, back rub might help a little.
Carla: Wouldn't you rather have a heating pad or some Doan's Pills?
Cliff: Right there between the, uh, scapuli.
Carla: Why, uh, sure. [rubs Cliff's back]
Cliff: Oh, that feels good. Ah! You know, Carla, what the heck. I'll just take off my shirt and you can come in the office with me and really knead the flesh. [Norm makes tire squealing sound]
Carla: Okay. But if I'm not out of there in 15 minutes, nail that door shut, call my kids and tell them I died in a hideous explosion. I wouldn't want them to know the truth.

Carla: Doc, I feel like I'm gonna explode. What should I do?
Frasier: Find some way to release the tension.
Carla: Good thinking. [shoves Frasier off his stool] Oh! Oh! Oh, thank you. I feel a lot better. Thank you.
Cliff: Carla, you know, you did such a good job with the back rub, now my feet are jealous.
Frasier: Allow me. [falls of his stool]

Carla: I rubbed his feet. I rubbed his feet!
Sam: Carla, Carla, Carla, come on. Cut it out. Hey, you've been washing your hands with kerosene for half an hour. They're clean!
Carla: No, not yet, Sam. Get me a match.
Norm: Carla, it couldn't have been that bad.
Carla: Like hell. I didn't look, but I'm sure I felt six toes on his left foot.

Emcee: If the judges will please come forward and the contestants will take their places, we're ready to begin the 53rd Annual Miss Boston Barmaid Contest.
Carla: Uh, uh, I'll be right there. I'm just gonna go get the other judge.
Emcee: What other judge?
Carla: Cliff Clavin.
Emcee: Sorry. I don't know a Cliff Clavin.
Carla: Well, what... What about this?
Emcee: Oh, I'm sorry, miss. That's not official. Someone must be having fun with you.
Cliff: Hey, uh, Carla, you still got that little brush? Uh, you left a couple of crumbs on my mustache.
Carla: You know, Cliff, uh, I think you, uh, ought to keep those crumbs. They're gonna need 'em to identify your body. You set me up! You put your name on that list just so that I would be nice to you!
Emcee: Contestant number one?
Carla: [sweetly] Yes?
Emcee: If you'll take your place with the other contestants we can begin.
Carla: [Cliff groans] I have to go be in the contest now, Cliff. Why don't you make your peace with God?

Norm: Are you nuts?! Did you think you were gonna actually get away with that? You know you're dead now, don't you?
Cliff: Eh, I know, Norm. Some men have a mission. Uh, guys climb Mount Everest. Other guys walk on the moon.
Norm: Yeah, either of those would be a pretty good hiding place for you right now.
Cliff: I topped them all, yessiree. I had Carla rub my bare feet. I'm gonna have that etched on my tombstone.
Norm: You can start working on it just about now.

Emcee: Contestant number one, you're first. Our first category will be speed followed by memorization, personal warmth, courtesy and drink knowledge.
Sam: [high voice] What about the bikini round?
Emcee: We're well aware of your views, Mr. Malone.

Rebecca: Woody, where's Norm? Is he in the bathroom?
Woody: No.
Rebecca: Is he putting money in the meter?
Woody: No.
Rebecca: Don't tell me he is actually... [bang, hissing sound]
Norm: [o.s.] Whoa! [hissing stops]
[When Rebecca, Woody and Paul enter the office, everything - including Norm - is coated in white paint]
Norm: Relax. It-it-it dries much lighter.

Cliff: Carla, you've really got strong, peasant hands.
Carla: Thank you, Cliff.
Cliff: It's really quite a refreshing change, you being nice to me all of a sudden.
Carla: It's not all of a sudden. It's like when you're in third grade when you tease the boy you secretly like the most.
Cliff: You mean the whole third grade secretly liked me?
Carla: Forget it.
Cliff: Wait a minute, Carla, are you trying to say you like me?
Carla: Well...
Cliff: Oh, come on, don't be shy. Say it. Say it so the guys can hear it.
Carla: [quietly] I like you. I said it.

Mr. Quincy: Could I have some service?
Carla: Coming! Hi. I'll be your waitress today. How may I serve you?
Mr. Quincy: I want a martini. Dry. D-R-Y. And that means light on the vermouth. And I want a twist, not an olive.
Carla: Very well, sir.
Mr. Quincy: Uh, uh, read that back to me. I don't want any mistakes.
Carla: One martini, very dry.
Mr. Quincy: You forgot the twist.
Carla: Twist it is. [to herself] I'll twist his big ears off.

Carla: Oh God. I might as well just chop this phony bow.
Norm: Aww.
Carla: You're right, Norm. It's hopeless. I'm never gonna win anything.
Norm: Come on.
Carla: No, really. You know, I thought it was my turn. I thought that, for once in my life, I was gonna be recognized for being the best at what I do. Now, because of Clavin, I don't even get the chance.
Norm: All right, well, why don't you try this? Actually be nice to Cliff. Listen to his stories. Treat him like a friend. [laughs] I'm sorry. It's the beer talking.