Paul: Another beer, Sam. Uh, put it on my tab.
Sam: Actually, Paul, we don't run tabs here.
Paul: What do you mean you don't run tabs here? Norm Peterson has a tab the size of his pants.
Sam: Well, that's, that's Norm.
Paul: Well, this is Paul.
Sam: Come on, Norm doesn't have much in life, except Cheers.
Paul: What about me? I'm unemployed. I don't like my wife.
Sam: You're putting me in a tough spot here.
Paul: I'm sorry, Sam, I really want a tab.

Woody: Hey, Carla.
Carla: What's the matter, Eefus?
Woody: Well, you served table three's drinks to table five.
Carla: That's a five?
Woody: Yeah, can't you read that?
Cliff: Aw, it's not surprising, Woody. Carla's reaching that age where the lens of the cornea loses its elasticity. They do say that the eye is the first to go. [chuckles]
Carla: Keep it up and your teeth will be the first to go. [sticks in an olive in Cliff's ear]
Cliff: That was clearly a three there, Eefus. Get your orders straight.

Norm: Oh, I see a starfish.
Cliff: I think it's a manta ray.
Woody: You showing ink blots again, Dr. Crane?
Frasier: Uh, no, Woody. We are engaged in something far more challenging than anything Hermann Rorschach ever dreamed up.
Norm: That's right, Wood, we're trying to figure out the five hidden pictures on Melville's kiddie place mat.

Phil: Excuse me, Miss. Is this total right?
[Carla briefly puts on a pair of glasses as she reads the check]
Carla: Yeah.
Cliff: What was that?
Carla: Nothing.
Cliff: There was something across the bridge of your nose. It was horn-rimmed and a little Coke bottle-ish.
Carla: All right, I went to one of those one-hour joints and I got myself a pair of reading glasses. But if I hear one single comment about Ben Franklin or Granny or "four eyes," I will cut out your tongue and fry it up for lunch.
[As Carla puts on her glasses, Norm and Cliff muffle their laughter]
Cliff: [laughs] I don't care. It's worth a tongue.
Carla: Oh, darn. These glasses have a spot on them. [sprays water hose at Cliff] That's better.

Lilith: What are you doing, Sam?
Sam: Huh? Oh, I'm, uh, faking a letter from the lRS here saying that Rebecca overpaid her return last year. So the government now owes her $25 million.
Lilith: Sam.
Sam: Well, it could happen! Come on! Give me a break.
Lilith: I think your humor is expressing a hidden hostility toward Rebecca. Or perhaps, deep down, you fear she really is capable of taking this bar from you.
Sam: Put a suit on a woman and she thinks she's God.
Lilith: Frasier, are you going to let him talk to me like this?
Frasier: She's also this way when the suit comes off, Sam. You should see her rule the roost in her bra and panties. [laughs] Well, well well, hey, it's a compliment, baby!

John: It seems we have two interested parties here. Perhaps I should give it to the one who wants it the most. The party who's willing to go that extra mile. Oh, dear, I notice my shoelace is untied.
Sam: Oh, give me a break! You expect one of us to get down on our hands and knees and tie your shoelace so you can give them the rooms?
Rebecca: Oh, well to hell with you, Mister. You know, nothing's worth that.
[Sam and Rebecca both bend down and tend to John's shoe]
John: Oh, Christmas is coming early this year.

Woody: Hey, Carla, I heard the guys were kidding you about your glasses. But I want you to know, I think it makes you look a lot more intellectual.
Carla: Thanks, Woody.
Woody: In fact, they they kind of make you look like Einstein.
Carla: Thanks a lot.
Woody: Yeah, if you could just get your hair to do what his does. Well, actually, it almost does.
[Carla takes the water hose and sprays Cliff]
Cliff: Whoa, whoa, whoa! Why me?
Carla: I have to work with him.

Woody: Oh, boy, Miss Howe! When I see a woman in a hot little black dress like that, all I can think of is "Zowie," and "Who died?"

Rebecca: Well, you know, John, if you did sell me the property, I would be a very friendly neighbor. And I'm sure we could come to some mutual agreement. You do know what I mean, don't you?
[Rebecca swipes plates and glasses off the table as she climbs on top of it]
Rebecca: Oh, I'll clean that up later.
John: Don't worry about that, we have a real estate purchase to consider. In fact, why don't we go into the next room. We can get under the sheets and haggle.
Rebecca: Right now?
John: I'm ready.

Sam: Hey, Rebecca, you got to get on the phone with the distributor. I'm still out of vermouth.
Rebecca: Yeah, yeah, I'll do that this afternoon. I have to work on my own plans this morning.
Sam: Your plans for what?
Rebecca: For what I'm going to do when I buy your bar.
Sam: [laughs] Oh, those plans, right. Oh, how can I forget that?
Rebecca: You're not taking me seriously, are you, Sam?
Sam: No, no, I'm not. No, I'm not. You, the bar owner. "Hi, I'm Rebecca Howe. Welcome to my bar. Gee, you know, we're a little low on vermouth today. Maybe I ought to get on the phone and order some because, after all, this is my bar."
Rebecca: That is not funny.
Sam: Yeah, well, I guess to get it, you'd have to be a bar owner or out of vermouth and I'm both, so order it.