Cliff: Where, uh, where's he taking you?
Rebecca: Only the society event of the season, celebrating the anniversary of the launching of Old Ironsides.
Woody: Wow, can you get Raymond Burr's autograph?
Rebecca: Woody, this is Old Ironsides, the ship. The USS Constitution.
Woody: I know; I was reading about it in the paper. Raymond Burr's gonna be there.
Rebecca: [gasps] Oh, God, I'm gonna be late.
Woody: Have him make it out to Woody, and make sure he signs it, Perry Mason, Ironsides, and that guy who cut up his wife in Rear Window.

Cliff: Admiral William J. Crowe, Jr., promoted to Admiral in 1974. In 1983 commanded U.S. Pacific Command. In 1985, appointed 11th Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Wife, Shirley.
Admiral William J. Crowe Jr.: I'm impressed, young man. How come you know so much about me?
Cliff: Simple, sir. I'm an American. Clifford Clavin, U.S. Postal Service, sir.
Admiral William J. Crowe Jr.: Nice to know you, Mr. Clavin. Us guys in uniform got to stick together.
Cliff: Yes, sir.
Admiral William J. Crowe Jr.: Were you ever in the Navy?
Cliff: No, sir, I wanted to be but the old asthma started kicking up, you know. So, uh, so I joined the U.S. Postal Service instead. I figured if I couldn't serve I should at least deliver the draft notices to those who could.

Sam: Look what I found in this dirty old glass.
Rebecca: Oh! Oh! Oh! You are such an angel! Oh, how can I ever thank you?
Sam: I think the how has already been established. We're up to where and how often.
Rebecca: Well... a promise is a promise.
Sam: Come on. I hate that. I hate it when you do that. Come on. What- What's wrong with you? Why- Why don't you want me? What's the problem?
Rebecca: You know, Sam, I really... I just don't know why I don't want you.
Sam: Well, think, damn it!
Rebecca: I think it's just one of those things that, when you first meet a guy, you put him in one of three categories: yes, no or maybe. And the second I saw you, I threw you right in that "no" category, and that's where you've stayed ever since. I mean, when Sam Malone walks into a room, I say "no" and go on with my life.
Sam: Every single time?
Rebecca: No. There was this one time, when you were way down at the end of the hall, and I could just see this tiny little piece of your elbow, and I didn't know for sure if it was you. And I thought to myself, hmm. And then you came around the corner, and I thought, "God, no!"
Sam: "God, no" is a lot worse than just no, isn't it?

Sam: Gee, I wish we could just start all over again, you know? Just wipe all this junk out of the way.
Rebecca: I like that idea.
Sam: Yeah, I mean, it's, like, if I could see you for the first time, I'd look over there and I'd well, I'd see a beautiful woman.
Rebecca: Thank you. And I'd see you, and I'd see a real good-looking guy.
Sam: With- With nice hair.
Rebecca: Right.
Sam: Say it.
Rebecca: With nice hair.
Sam: Thank you.
Rebecca: And broad shoulders and a pleasant smile. Nice hair again.

Sam: Listen. Here we are, both dolled up, looking like a million bucks. What do you say the two of us storm the old USS Constitution together, huh?
Rebecca: I don't think so.
Sam: Oh, are you so depressed about being stood up?
Rebecca: No. I just don't want to go with you.
Sam: Wait a minute. You spent all day getting dressed up and you're trying to tell me that you'd rather stay in this bar than go out with me?
Rebecca: No, Sam, I am trying to tell you that I would rather remove my own gall bladder with an oyster fork than go out with you.

Rebecca: Carla, can you help me with this zipper, please?
Carla: Sure, boss. You know, when you first walked in in this dress, you were like the closest thing to Cher I've ever seen.
Rebecca: Really?
Carla: Yeah, you looked just like Sonny Bono.
Rebecca: Carla, I don't have time to trade insults with you.
Carla: Oh, that's okay. You can still keep mine. There you go. Now, be careful when you unzip. I think I snagged about a dozen little back hairs.
Rebecca: Thank you, Carla.

Sam: Why do you say these things to me? I mean, how come I turn you off so much?
Rebecca: I don't know. It's just one of those things you have to take on faith. It's kind of like I don't know that the refrigerator light goes off for sure when I close the door.
Woody: Well, obviously you never tried closing it from the inside.

Sam: Hey, Admiral, thanks. These are great hats.
Cliff: Hats don't win wars; ideas do. Now sir, here's what separates my submarine concept from everybody else's. You see, mine's got wheels.
Admiral William J. Crowe Jr.: Uh, I understand, Cliff. It's getting late. Sam, thanks for the autographed baseball.
Sam: Oh, yeah, listen. If the President wants one of those, he knows where to get me.
Admiral William J. Crowe Jr.: I'm sure you'll be hearing from him. Norm.
Norm: Later.
Cliff: Uh, sir, these plans I've drawn up for the new assault vehicle, where should I send them?
Admiral William J. Crowe Jr.: Just send them to the Pentagon, Cliff.
Cliff: Yes, sir. Sir, I'm a little bit worried about that, though. If I send them to the Pentagon, they might get lost.
Admiral William J. Crowe Jr.: Very definitely send them to the Pentagon.
Cliff: Yes, sir.

Sam: Aw, see, you're- You're patronizing me.
Rebecca: No, I'm not. I am not patronizing you. We said we were going to be honest. I think you're an attractive guy. I think you're cute enough to kiss. I mean, if I didn't know you.
Sam: Yeah, yeah if you didn't know me.
Rebecca: All right, what? You want me to prove it to you that I think you're cute? All right, fine. I will prove it to you. I will dispel the myth that you turn my stomach. I will give you a little kiss. Here. [gives Sam a brief kiss] There. [Sam pulls Rebecca in for a more intense kiss]
Sam: Now, what category am I in? Yes? No? [Rebecca is silent] Oh, geez. Why do I even bother with you? [exits]
Rebecca: Ooh! A definite maybe.
Sam: [returns] I heard that. You said maybe! You said maybe! Rebecca thinks I'm a maybe!
Rebecca: I did not say that! I said that you kiss like my Uncle Abey!
Sam: No, no, no.
Rebecca: I said that I think you gave me rabies!

Woody: Refill, Mr. P.?
Norm: Yeah. [knuckles crack]
Woody: Eww! Knuckle cracking. I hate that sound. And you hurt your fingers.
Cliff: Woodrow, knuckle cracking is relatively harmless. Actually, when you crack your knuckles, what you're doing is really, uh, breaking a sound barrier. Yeah, what you hear is actually a tiny finger-sized sonic boom.
Frasier: Well, Cliff, you're partly right.
Cliff: Really? Which part?
Frasier: The phenomenon of knuckle cracking is relatively harmless. But in fact, the sound you're hearing is not a cracking at all, but rather a popping of tiny gas bubbles imploding in the synovial fluid of the metacarpal phalangeal joint.
Woody: Makes sense.
Norm: Yeah, but knuckle-cracking doesn't make a popping sound. A popping sound is more like this. [popping sound]
Woody: Oh, God, I could never do that. You know what else I could never do? I could never whistle with my fingers.
Norm: Carla can do that great. Hey, Carla, show Woody how you whistle with two fingers.
Carla: Sure. First, you have to crack your knuckles. [cracking sound]
Woody: Ooh, synovial fluid imploding! I hate that sound! You'll hurt your metacarpal phalangeal joint.