Cliff: Big news, everybody. Put down your beer mugs and hold on to your barstools. Me and Ma just got a new neighbor, moved into our apartment building little guy, about a hundred years old, up from South America, thick German accent, little mustache right about here. Likes to paint. I think you know where I'm going with this.
Frasier: Sweet Lord, I'll bet I do.
Cliff: Yep, Adolf Hitler is living in my apartment building.
Norm: Cliff, I don't even know why I have to tell you this, but Hitler is dead. He died at the end of World War ll in that bunker.
Cliff: Oh, yeah, really? Were you at the bunker?
Norm: Yeah, as a matter of fact...
Frasier: Cliff, throughout the years, we've become accustomed to your... Oh, how shall I delicately put this? Uh... madness. Now, for my own peace of mind, please assure me that you're not going to march up to this man and accuse him of being der Fuhrer.
Cliff: No, my accusations won't come until after I complete my investigation. The case will be rock solid, and it'd better be. l- I've been wrong twice before, you know.

Carla: Oh, good, my package from Amityville has arrived.
John: Ah, Miss Tortelli. Tell me, is that a new hairdo or did someone toss a toaster in your bathtub? [chuckling] What am I saying? What would you be doing in a bathtub?
Carla: Cleaning you out of the drain.
John: Yeasty oil slick.
Carla: Bladder polyp.
John: Manwich.
Carla: Perverted goat boy.
John: Sluttish mole.
Carla: 7:00 tonight?
John: Make it 6:30.
Carla: That man is the foulest, most disgusting, hideous creature to ever walk the face of this earth, and he's all mine.

Cliff: All right. Who wants to know what Hitler watches on TV?
Norm: Cliff, I'm not gonna play this stupid game anymore. Hitler does not live in your apartment building.
Cliff: All right, from 1500 hours to 1530 hours, he watched The Flintstones.
Norm: Instead of Gilligan's Island? Well, he is a mad man.
Cliff: From 1530 hours to 1600 he watched People's Court. How ironic. At 1630 hours, he clapped off the TV and went to bed. [a man of Indian heritage enters the bar] Oh, my God, Norm! It's him. Hide me.
Norm: This is the guy you thought was Hitler?
Cliff: No, no, worse! It's my landlord, Mr. Cranston.

John: Carla, could you please do me a small favor?
Carla: Yes, John.
John: Could you work yourself behind this machinery and unplug my life-support system so that I can leave this life and this agonizing conversation behind?
Carla: Oh, like it was fun for me, zit face!
John: Sasquatch.
Carla: Road kill.
John: Catcher's mitt.
Carla: Pond scum.
John: Phlegm face.
Carla: See you in eight weeks?
John: Make it four.
Carla: Make it two.
John: Pull the curtain.

John: Sa-am.
Sam: Wha-at?
John: I haven't been down here since the fire. By the way, when are you going to rebuild?
Sam: We have.
John: Oh, well, and it looks very... The reason I'm down here is, last night our refrigerator went on the fritz, leaving us with a hundred pounds of mackerel, which may or may not have gone bad. Now, not wanting to take a chance with my customers, I'm prepared to offer a special to your patrons. All-you-can-eat for two dollars.

Cliff: Well, all right, everybody. Drop what you're doing, stop the presses. Nobody's going to be making fun of Cliff Clavin anymore. That's for sure. Look, what I found in the trash of Mr. A. Hitler. Behold, exhibit "A."
Paul: What's this, a check stub here?
Cliff: It's a Social Security check stub, and it sickens me. To think that we Americans worked our fingers to the bone so Mr. Hitler could have creamed corn.
Paul: A cereal box?
Cliff: That's right, Paul, it's a cereal box. I guess we can determine that Trix are for kids and for der Fuhrer.
Rebecca: Cliff, what is that thing?
Cliff: This is the most sophisticated and high-tech listening device that money can buy. Gentlemen, say hello to Mr. Ear.
Frasier: Mr. Ear.
Cliff: That's right, you see, if I'm going to stop the Fourth Reich from happening, I have to know every move that Hitler makes. With this baby, I can hear a pin drop at 500 feet away. See those two chicks up there? I'll tell you exactly what they're talking about. They're talking about some stupid-looking yutz holding a... never mind. All right. Look, wish me luck, everybody. If I'm not back in two hours, call the Defense Department. Tell them Hitler's alive and living in my apartment building. They know the address.

Rebecca: I was talking about John Hill.
Sam: What hospital is he in?
Norm: Arlington.
Rebecca: Should we visit him at the hospital? Who wants to go? [the guys are silent] Come on, you guys, he's our neighbor. We know him, we should see him in the hospital.
Norm: Rebecca, it's not like he's our best friend or anything.
Rebecca: Norm, that's not the point. The point is, you have to pretend to be nice to people. That's what makes you a good person.

Carla: Hill!
John: Miss Tortelli!
Carla: These are for you.
John: Oh, what a thoughtful purchase.
Carla: I didn't buy 'em. I got 'em out of a room down the hall. The guy won't be needing 'em where he's going.
John: Has he been discharged?
Carla: You might say. If you ever need a pair of slippers, size 11, let me know.
John: Oh, thank you.

Frasier: Well, Cliff, you've tormented an elderly man, you got everyone in your apartment building angry, and you almost lost your home. Now, are you clear on what this means?
Cliff: Sure. Hitler brainwashed my landlord.

Kelly: This is for you.
Rebecca: For me? What is it? [gasps] Oh, Kelly, this is beautiful. Why me?
Kelly: Because I like you and you've always shown me friendship.
Rebecca: Well, that's sweet, Kelly. Thank you.
Kelly: And I want you to keep your hands off my man. Do we understand each other?
Rebecca: Not really.
Kelly: [laughs] Don't play dumb with me, Miss Howe. I invented it. You know, Woody tells me how you look at him.
Rebecca: Kelly, I don't look at him.
Kelly: I know you do, Miss Howe, and I'm prepared to buy you one of these every month if you keep away from my Woody.
Rebecca: Well, you know, Kelly, he is awfully cute.
Kelly: All right, one a week. Do we have a deal?
Rebecca: Deal.
Kelly: Do you know where Carla is?