Frasier: Sam, you are my inspiration.
Sam: Well, thank you.
Frasier: You, too, were a worthless, drooling drunk.
Sam: Carla, hold it a second.
Frasier: Sam, I'm sorry. See, the point is that you pulled yourself together. I have to rebuild my life, my career, my reputation, my self-esteem. I'm no longer worthy to practice psychiatry, but I'm gonna make myself worthy. I'll start at the lowest, most menial level. Sam, who sweeps the floors here?
Sam: Oh, me and Woody. Mostly Woody. All right, Woody.
Frasier: Well, let me do it for both of you. You can pay me whatever you'd like.
Sam: Oh, gee, Frasier. I don't know.
Frasier: No, Sam, I know you think it's beneath me, but I really need this now.
Sam: No, no, I just don't know where Woody put the broom. Maybe if you try in the back closet there. I mean, it's okay with me, but you sure you want Diane to see this?
Frasier: Yes. Let her confront her guilt for what she's wrought by her refusal to work out our relationship. And if I have a scintilla of psychological acumen left, when she sees my humiliation, she'll eat her liver.