Norm: Woody, uh a six-pack. All the, uh, beer you've poured me over the years, you know.
Woody: Thanks a lot, Mr. Peterson.
Cliff: So, Woods, uh, I've got a sheet of commemorative stamps here depicting, uh, all the U.S. Presidents. Uh, well, except nine.
Woody: That's great. Thank you, Mr. Clavin.
Frasier: [finds his pockets empty] See, I didn't know, I didn't know we were giving gifts. I could, uh... Could I send you something?
Woody: Ah, that's fine, Dr. Crane.
Diane: It's been an honor knowing you, Woody.
Frasier: You know, if somebody had told me, I could've picked something up.

Sam: Come on, let me buy you all a beer on the house, here.
Norm: No, none for me, Sammy.
Carla: [answers phone] Hello, Cheers.
Norm: Beer's just gonna remind me of the kid. It'll be quite some time before I can even touch one again. Well, that oughta do it, I guess.

Sam: Well, what, what happened, Woody?
Woody: Someone sent him a real simple note that changed his mind.
Diane: What did it say?
Woody: It said, "Let your son choose his own path and it will always lead back to you."
Diane: Oh, how eloquent.
Woody: Yeah, but it wasn't signed. Hey, come on, guys, fess up. Who did it?
Cliff: Oh, not me.
Norm: No.
Sam: Don't look at me.
Woody: Carla?
Carla: Yeah, right.
Woody: I sure wish I knew who it was, so I could thank them.
Al: Don't mention it, kid.

Diane: Okay, let's take it again. [everyone groans]
Norm: Diane, do we really have to do this again?
Diane: We all agreed that the best way to persuade Woody's parents to let him stay was to show them how decent and upstanding his friends are, right? [muttering agreement] Okay. And what better way to show them than by making a film of his everyday life? And who better to serve as auteur than the person who ruined the curve in her film techniques class.
Sam: Hey, Diane, shoot the damn film.
Diane: Would you tell Fellini "Shoot the damn film"? Would you tell Antonioni "Shoot the damn film"? Would you tell Bergman "Shoot the damn film"?
Sam: No, I'm telling you, shoot the damn film.
Carla: Better yet, shoot the damn Diane.
Diane: Please. A little more reverence for the words I've written. Stick to the script. And try to be spontaneous.

Diane: Okay. Take 17, "Man-child in Beantown." Action!
Norm: "You know, when, the average Joe like me gets off work, he needs to come to a place like this where he can sort of unwind with his surrogate family."
Cliff: "Took the words right out of my mouth, Norm. But it feels as if a, uh, crucial part of our support system is missing."
Sam: "You're right. Uh, what do you think that would be, Carla?"
Carla: "Could it be that bucolic ray of sunshine from Indiana?" Stupid. This whole thing is stupid, Diane!
Diane: People, people, work with me! Work with me!
Sam: I hate that. I hate "People, people".

Diane: Please, Sam.
Sam: All right, all right. Um, "You're right. Woody's not here. The place seems so empty without his smiling countenance."
Woody: "Hello, buddies."
All: "Hello, Woody!"
Sam: "Come on over and join us for some male bonding."
Woody: "Well, that sounds good, but first, I have to call my mother." [all aw]
Norm: "Yeah, it sure is refreshing to see a son being so considerate of his mother. Isn't it, Carla?"
Carla: It's stupid!
Sam: "You know, my lovely and cherished..."
Diane: Fawn-like.
Sam: "fawn-like bride-to-be, Diane Chambers..." You're right, Carla, this is stupid.

Sam: The whole thing is stupid! I mean, why can't we just use our own words? Be ourselves here?
Diane: Fine, Mr. Smarty Pants. You're such an expert, you take the camera. Go ahead.
Sam: All right. All right, I will.
Diane: Just don't come crying to me when the whole mise-en-scene deteriorates. You'll find that film is an exacting art requiring a lot more than just knowing where the "on" button is. Good luck.
Sam: Yeah, well, we don't need any luck. And we don't need you, either Cinema Puss. Where is the "on" button on this?

Sam: Oh, good, good, good, good. You're just in time to see our masterpiece.
Diane: Should I alert Pauline Kael?
Sam: Well, if you want to, but tell her to get her butt in gear, we're about to start.

[on film:]
Woody: Hi! Welcome to our cookout. Another chicken leg, Mr. Peterson?
Norm: Oh, well, nah... Yeah! What the hey, it looks pretty good if I do say so myself. [chuckles]
Woody: This is my co-worker here, Carla Tortelli.
Carla: Hi.
Frasier: What do we have here? [Carla's children chase after Frasier with the garden hose]
Woody: Uh, this is just the sort of family type thing we do here in Boston.
Carla: Hi.
Woody: Say something besides "hi."
Carla: Hello.
Woody: [jet airplane whines] You hear that? Well, uh, Carla lives near the airport so... [airplane roars] actually, sometimes, it's hard to hear.
[in the bar:]
Diane: Why wasn't I invited?
Norm: You didn't miss much, Diane. Carla's kids stole the beef and then they stuck Woody's shoes on the fire.
Norm: [on film] More smoked tongue, anyone?

[on film:]
Cliff: Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Boyd. I'm... Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Boyd. I'm Cliff Clavin, a good pal of Woody's and a proud member of the U.S. Postal Service. Come on along with me and I'll show you the kind of work we do routinely at the USPS. Morning, Woody.
Woody: Hi, Mr. Clavin.
Cliff: Hi, Judy! [she is silent] Well, let's see what we got in the mail bag. Well, look at this! It's a letter all the way from Guam to a man right here in Boston. Wow! It's made it this far, and it's up to me to see that it gets where it's intended. [Woody walks on the home owner's lawn] Woody, I could get in big trouble for that.
Woody: Oh.
Cliff: I'm only one link in this chain. A strong link, a vital link...
Carla: [in real life] A missing link.