Host: [on radio] Mr. Boyd, what was the coldest day in Boston's history?
Woody: [on the phone] Well, you don't really care. You're just like all the rest.
Carla: Woody, tell him.
Woody: All right. The coldest day in Boston's history is January 12, 1981.
Host: Mr. Boyd, you've won our grand prize!
Carla: All right!
Woody: The winds were westerly at 20 miles per hour.
Host: You'll be staying...
Woody: Interestingly enough, the coldest day in Boston's history did not start out that way.
Host: ...home of the world-famous mahi-mahi burger.
Woody: The barometric pressure was hovering...
Host: Hey, weatherman, shut up!
Woody: Not till I'm finished.
Carla: [on the phone] Give me that. He'll be right down to pick up his prize.
Woody: What did I win, a t-shirt?
Carla: Woody, you're going to Hawaii.
Woody: I'm going to Hawaii? It's not cold there, suckers!

Frasier: How you doing there, Norm?
Norm: Uh, kind of at loose ends, a little bit, you know? Just feels strange not having that sad, pathetic creature following me around all time.
Frasier: Doris kind of grew on you, huh?
Norm: Oh, no. I meant Cliff.

Pete: I'm telling you guys, Davy Crockett was the greatest American hero. question.
Norm: Come on! Man, he deserted his wife and kids and one of the worst absentee records in the history congress.
Pete: Well, who's your hero?
Norm: Bambino. Babe Ruth. Sultan of Swat. Built Yankee Stadium.
Cliff: Come on, stop, will ya? From what I hear, the guy was a glutton, a regular eating-and-drinking machine.
Norm: Oh, who am I supposed to pattern my life after, Gandhi?

Woody: Oh, boy. Hey, everybody, guess what. I was reading "The Farmer's Almanac." Guess what. This is an historical day. This is the second coldest day in the history of Boston.
Norm: Yeah.
Woody: And don't you want to know when the coldest day in the history of Boston...
Norm: Uh, Woods, things are pretty boring around here, but I don't think we've quite sunk that low yet, OK?
Rebecca: Guess what, you guys. Robin Colcord bought me a new desk.
Norm: So when was the coldest day in the history of Boston, Wood?
Woody: Interestingly enough, the coldest day in Boston's history did not start out that way. Yeah, it started out relatively warm, but then, by noon, the temperature began to drop.
Norm: So, you got a new desk, huh?
Cliff: [enters] Hey, Normie, you want to see where the Flannigans' dog almost bit me?
Norm: Well, congratulations, Cliff. You have just won the Boston Bore-Athon.

Norm: Anyway, she's on her way over here. I got to finish this puppy.
Sam: Well, what do you got so far there?
Norm: I got... All right. "To whom it may concern, Doris..." And then there's this big middle chunk that I'm still working on. Then I close with, "And I hope the Red Sox win the Pennant. Norm Peterson." That's how I end all my correspondences.
Frasier: Actually, Norm, you have to use upbeat adjectives like, um... Oh, hardworking, loyal, professional...
Norm: Good. Good, good, good.
Cliff: How about prompt?
Norm: Ooh, prompt. Cliffie, all right.
Frasier: If I might make a suggestion, too, why don't you write it on stationery instead of a cocktail napkin?

Norm: All right, guys. I think I got a good start on this. I open up with all that courtesy crap, and then I go, "I'm sorry to let Doris go. No reflection on her. She's a fine worker. And I'm sure she'll be an asset to any company.
May the Red Sox..." Yada-yada. Norm Peterson.
Sam: That's good.
Norm: Yeah.
[Doris enters wearing a yellow raincoat]
Norm: Uh-oh. Oh, there she is.
Frasier: My God, he's going to fire the Morton Salt girl.

Man: Could I please just have my beer?
Woody: All right, but just guess. What was the coldest day in the history of Boston?
Man: Am I gonna have to talk to the manager?
Woody: She don't know.

Rebecca: Guys, guys. Robin just faxed me this message about the desk. "Dear Rebecca, by now, you've received your desk. You should know that it has a hidden secret that's going to make you very happy. But don't look for it, because I want to be there to share the surprise. I will give you one hint. The key word is... Ring." It's a ring, Carla. There is a ring hidden in that desk. Isn't that romantic?
Carla: My ex-husband hid my engagement ring in an X-rated soap on a rope. He scrubbed me raw for two hours before I found it. Now, that's magic time.

Frasier: I have had it with giving out this free psychological advice. It's bad enough I do it as a living. I mean, I have to come to the bar and do it here, too? I'm not about to analyze this poor, pitiful creature who obviously is suffering from a very low self-image and finds in you a validation of her sense of self in her own personality. Damn it, I did it again!
Norm: So what you're saying is that I basically appeal to her desperate nature?
Frasier: Clinically speaking, she'd go for anything that could lumber up to her under its own power.
Norm: OK, now, how do I get rid of her?
Frasier: Well, try building up her self-confidence. If she feels better about herself, she'd be less inclined to degrade herself by going for the likes of you. I mean no offense. I mean, when I say, "the likes of you," I don't mean you personally. Just any unappealing, go-nowhere loser.
Norm: So why should I take offense?
Frasier: Good man.

Norm: No, Doris, I didn't write the damn letter, OK? I mean, I wrote the part about the Red Sox, but the other guys, they helped me with it. Cliff- Cliff wrote the word "prompt," didn't you, Cliffie?
Cliff: Oh, yeah, you bet.
Doris: Wow. And you don't even know me. Although, maybe in a way, you do.
Norm: Ooh, ooh. Red light. Red light, Cliff.
Cliff: Oh, what's the matter?
Norm: Frasier, come on, tell him. Come on!
Frasier: All right, but after this, you're on the clock. Cliff, you may think that you're getting involved in a nice conversation with this girl, but believe me, she will read volumes into everything you say and do.
Norm: Cliffie, it's like she's a zombie love slave, just willing to do anything to serve her man. You understand what I'm saying?
Cliff: Oh, yeah. Crystal clear. I got a live one. I don't even have to buy her a drink.