Frasier: Well, l, for one, applaud your desire to shake things up a bit, Cliff. Sometimes I think I'd give anything for a change - no matter how slight - in this deadly, unvarying routine of life.
Woody: What can I get you, Dr. Crane?
Frasier: The usual.

Frasier: The thought of my Lilith having one last carnal fling with some fellow in a Speedo is beyond belief!
Norm: Now, Frasier, I mean, just 'cause some guy strips in her honor doesn't mean they're going to wind up in the sack together.
Frasier: Oh, no, no, no, you don't know my Lilith. I'll tell you, once her libido's cut loose, I mean, there's no tying her down. Unless, of course, that's what she's into for the evening.

Frasier: Why there's my Kanga and her little Roo. Do you feel the butterfly of life fluttering within you?
Lilith: It's either that or gas. Could I speak with you for a moment in relative privacy?
Frasier: Of course.
Lilith: Now I know you don't want me carrying on about the pregnancy, and believe me, I don't intend to. But I thought as a doctor, you might like to hear one thing. [Lilith pulls out a stethoscope]
Frasier: What is that? It sounds li- It is! Is it? A little heartbeat? My child's heartbeat. Life! I am a giver of life! I have planted my seed.
Lilith: I am your fertile ground.
Frasier: Lo! See what we have wrought!
Lilith: Let's go sleep on the roof nude, my dear, and let the rain nourish our child.
Frasier: Yes, why not? Nude, and unashamed. Why should we be ashamed? Our child will never be ashamed.
Carla: Want to bet?

Frasier: Carla, this psychic business is just a crutch to avoid reality. It's very easy for people to get hooked on this hocus-pocus. And, well, before you know it, this woman'll be holding your hand once a week, charging you $100 an hour, and filling your mind with all sorts of confusing jargon.
Carla: And how is that different from you?
Frasier: Well, um... I can prescribe drugs.

Frasier: I would like to nominate as the stupidest creature on Earth the one who awakens each day to drive through gridlocked traffic, to sit in a windowless office breathing re-circulated air, then returns home and collapses into a stupor... only to do the same damn thing all over again every day until he dies.
Norm: Looking forward to that vacation, eh, Fras?
Frasier: You bet. We're going to Maui.

Sam: Anyway, I gave her the day off so she could just go home and cool out, you know.
Frasier: Well, very often that's the best thing you can do when you're not getting along with a family member. Remove yourself entirely from them. Find some neutral place where you can take the time you need to be away from them.
Norm: You really think so, Fras?
Frasier: Well, that's... That's why we're all here, isn't it?

Frasier: As we recall from Monday's installment of A Tale of Two Cities, Sydney Carton was about to go to the guillotine and sacrifice himself.
Norm: The guillotine, slice that neck. [Cliff laughs]
Frasier: "When suddenly, an Apache attack chopper hovered above the guillotine, pumping hot lead into the crowd."
Cliff: Get them Frogs, huh?
Frasier: "As Darnay climbed into the chopper, sweat streaming from his bloodstained headband, he could be heard to mutter, 'It is a far, far better thing I do than I have ever done. It is a far, far better butt-kicking I give than I have ever butt-kicked.'"
Norm: All right. Whoa! What a book, huh?
Cliff: Yeah, that was great, great, Fras. What, uh, what are you going to read to us next?
Frasier: Well, I was thinking about, uh, David Copperfield.
Cliff: What's that about?
Frasier: Well, it's about these, uh two coppers, and this field, um... And they're found dismembered with their body parts switched.
Carla: Man! Man, that Dickens is one sick dude.

Lilith: Frasier, making out a will is a sensible precaution, and one you've been avoiding for months. We're seeing the lawyer this afternoon, and we have to get these questions answered.
Frasier: Look, darling, I find this entire will discussion troubling. It's not easy to talk about one's mortality. Oh, just the thought of of being apart from you and-and little Frederick... It's well, it's... It's just hard.
Lilith: So, who gets the wok?
Frasier: The wok?! My God, woman, we're talking about death here! My death, your death, the end of everything! Being lowered into the grave in a silk-lined casket!
Lilith: Yes. And?
Frasier: And it's upsetting to mammals like me!

Carla: Hey, Fras, your cab's here!
Frasier: Oh, there. I've pulled myself together. Now that I have my will, I suppose I can look into the face of death. Just hope I don't wake her.

Frasier: You know, sitting here in my dinner jacket, I feel I should be tossing off brittle Noel Coward bon mots.
Lilith: Do you know any brittle Noel Coward bon mots?
Frasier: As a matter of fact, I do. It seems that after being told that a very boring acquaintance of his had put a bullet through his brain, Coward said, "He must have been a remarkable shot!" [laughs]
Lilith: Did he often find humor in the tragedy of others?
Frasier: Well, darling, you're missing the humor, dear.
Lilith: He got his jollies from massive head trauma?
Frasier: Don't- You're missing the whimsy.
Lilith: Oh, for God's sake, Frasier! Can you imagine the state of mind that would drive a man to do something like that? Can you picture the despair he must have felt facing a future in which any hope or joy seemed utterly impossible?
Frasier: I think I can picture that, dear.