Sam: Yeah, Norm is quite a guy, isn't he? You know, I don't think he had to sail to the South Pacific to make us admire and respect him.
Carla: He did for me.
Man: It was the only worthwhile thing he ever did in an otherwise wasted life.
Sam: Come on, come on. I'm serious. I mean, if Norm hadn't gone to Bora Bora, I don't think we would have thought any the less of him. Do you?
Cliff: You kidding? Of course we would.
Carla: Definitely.
Diane: Sam, what are you talking about?
Sam: Well, it's hypothetical. But just suppose that Norm had spent the last three weeks in a motel some place, and that he had sent those letters before he sailed and gave them to some fella to mail when he got to the islands, we wouldn't think any the less of him. Now would we?
Carla: That yellow belly is in your office, isn't he?
Sam: Now, don't be silly.
Carla: If he's not, he's not going to mind me doing this. [hits Sam's office door]
Norm: [opens door] Swell friends I have. That's the last you'll see of Norm Peterson.

Norm: Hey, really, I don't think we played so bad, you know.
Carla: Oh, listen to Mr. Gold Glove over here.
Norm: Come on! Yeah?
Carla: You drew more flies than bad liver.
Norm: Oh, give me a break!
Carla: The only thing more amazing than that was you dropped every one of them.
Norm: Come on, will you. I just have a little problem with balls hit directly at me. The... I think it's probably the sun, you know, or that I can't bend over.

Diane: Hello, everyone.
Carla: My! Don't you look the ballerina.
Diane: Thank you, Carla.
Carla: Now, why don't you take a flying leap?

Rebecca: I happen to think Wayne is a very talented bartender.
Carla: I don't think he's so great.
Rebecca: No, Ms. Tortelli?
Carla: No. I bet there are a lot of drinks he doesn't know how to make.
Wayne: Impossible. I know every drink there is.
Carla: Oh, yeah? I say that a customer is gonna come into this bar tonight and order a drink you've never heard of.
Wayne: No way, never happen.
Carla: Well, if it does, will you take a hike?
Wayne: All right. And if I win?
Carla: Then you get Sam's sailboat. Deal, Sam?
Sam: It's a deal.
Wayne: You're on. I love sailing.

Sal: You guys want a beer?
Carla: This is kind of a solemn occasion, Sal.
Sal: Malt liquor?

Carla: Mama, you are the only one who even cares about that stupid name. Everybody else agrees with me, right?
Zia: Oh, you're an ungrateful child.
Sal: You make me sick.
Angeline: Bitch.
Carla: Okay. Well, just forget all of you. I hate this family. I hate this house. I just never want to come back here again. I swear it. I swear it a million times. I swear on my children's eyes, I am never, ever, ever setting foot in this stupid, ugly, stinkin' rattrap again. [exits]
Sam: Well, there goes my ride.

Gino: Hey, Ma.
Sam: Gino, what are you doing here?
Gino: Well, Ma, I was thinking about all that stuff you said, you know about-about making Grandma happy, and I was talking it over with MC and the Madonnas, and I figured, heck, if it'll keep this family together, someone's gotta do it. Ma, I'll be Benito Mussolini.
Carla: Look, Gino, do you even have any idea who Mussolini was?
Gino: Well, no, I didn't before, but then Anthony told me all about him. Ma, this guy ran this whole country. And do you know what they called him? They called him ll Duce. Huh? The Dooch. Hey, yeah, that's right. It's me, Dooch Tortelli.
Carla: That is a horrible name, and I never want to hear it again. It sounds awful. [phone rings] I hate that name, and I hate Mama for asking me to give it to you.
Woody: [hangs up the phone] Okay. Carla, that was your brother. He said to get over there right away. Your mother's going fast.
Carla: No. I swore I'd never go back in that house again. I have my pride.
Sam: Okay. Gino, want to grab her feet, I'll get the rest of her. Come here, come here, come on, come on, come on.
Carla: No! No! Put me down! Put me down! I don't want to go! Would you hoist me a little higher, guys? I'd like to have some butt left when I get there.

Carla: So, Phil, what did you do time for?
Phil: I held up a Piggly Wiggly. Can I now get on with my life, please?

Eric Finch: I hope you won't think me presumptuous, but dark, exotic women like you bring a fever to my blood.
Carla: Wow! Classy! My name is Carla. What can I get ya?
Eric Finch: How do you do, Carla? [kisses her wrist] My name's Eric Finch. Gin and bitters will do. You know, you have an interesting profile. Neapolitan, right?
Carla: That's right. My grandfather was from Naples.
Eric Finch: Well, we have a saying in my business, "Giving your heart to a Neapolitan girl is like forgetting to burn your code book." Oops. Blast. Now I've bloody well done it.
Carla: You're not a spy or anything, are you?
Eric Finch: Ssh. Please, don't say anything more. You might put my life in jeopardy. [as Coach walks by] You see that man, there?
Carla: Yeah.
Eric Finch: He might be the secret agent from a foreign country's intelligence.
Carla: I'd hate to live there.

Norm: So, Fras, how's Cliff's blood pressure?
Frasier: Well, the way his arms are flailing about, I couldn't get close enough to check it. I'd say by the way he's been bellowing all afternoon, he's still alive.
Carla: How do you like that? For once, the bull is throwing Clavin around.
Repairman: Ma'am, I'm sorry, but there isn't much more we can do.
Rebecca: Can't you just pull the plug or something?
Repairman: You got that bull butted right up against the plug. Besides, if we did kill the power, the bull would stop too abruptly. It might send that mailman right through the wall.
Carla: Tell me when the lights go out!
Rebecca: Carla, get away from that fuse box!