Diane: One vodka rocks.
Sam: Hey, is there anything I can do?
Diane: No. This problem is strictly between myself and Frasier Crane. Suffice to say he insists on making mountains out of molehills.
Carla: He wants you to wear a padded bra?
Diane: Go mate with a squid.
Carla: [to the customers] Please forgive her again. She spent time in an institution recently.

Cliff: Yeah, well, I guess the bottom line is that it'd be snitching. And I like to think I'm a little above that.
Norm: Absolutely.
Carla: [bawks]
Cliff: What is that, Carla? You announcing the birth of yet another child? Or are you implying something here?
Carla: You'd rat on a little guy.
Cliff: Oh, yeah? Well, I'm going to rat on this guy, too.
Sam: Come on, Cliff, don't let Carla goad you into this.
Cliff: No, no, Sammy, as long as I wear this uniform, I have a duty to fulfill. I'll speak my truth and take the consequences. [on the phone] Yeah, supervisor, please.
Norm: Come on, Cliff.
Cliff: No, I don't care about the risk I'm taking. The voice of Clifford Clavin is going to be heard like and clear. [talks in a Scandinavian accent on the phone] Hello, hang on to your yockstrap. I have a terrible thing to report.

Diane: Sam. Oh, Sam? Barkeep.
Sam: Oh, I'm sorry, Diane. Do you want me?
Diane: Actually, I want two Becks.
Sam: Guess I didn't hear you calling out my name.
Diane: Is the something amusing you that I don't know about?
Sam: No. No, why do you ask?
Diane: Oh, that stupid look on your face.
Sam: Hey, come on, do I need a reason to look stupid?
Diane: You have the best reason of all.

Coach: What's wrong, honey?
Diane: I'm having a bad day. Am I allowed to have a bad day?
Carla: Yeah, you've given us plenty. Keep one for yourself.

Coach: What are those little green things in a fruitcake, Cliff? They look like parts of tires.
Cliff: Coach, I think you're getting a little off the point here.
Coach: Well, you brought it up, Cliffie.

Sam: Well, who is this menace to society, anyway?
Cliff: Uh, do you remember Lewis, that fella I brought in here before?
Norm: The enormous black gentleman?
Cliff: That's the one.
Sam: Whoa, Cliff, Cliff, Cliff! Come on, I'd think twice before crossing Lewis. It could be dangerous. I mean, he's not exactly the kind of guy who drinks tea with his pinkie sticking out.
Coach: Please, Sam, there are ladies present.
Sam: I'm sorry, Coach.
Coach: Thank you.

Lewis: Someone made an anonymous call to the supervisor and squealed on me for taking a perfume sample out of a magazine.
Cliff: Oh, he fired you for that? What kind of a chicken outfit do we work for? Hey. Hey, Lewis, you smell divine. What's that you're wearing?
Lewis: Oh, Giorgio for Men.
Cliff: Ah, who could blame you for taking it? It's perfect for you.

Sam: Oh, Frasier.
Frasier: Hi, Sam.
Sam: Diane left about 15 minutes ago.
Frasier: Oh, darn. Well, I guess I'll have to go over to her house and shoot the breeze.
Sam: Diane is more like a monsoon.
Frasier: [laughs] Yes, her breeze is like a monsoon. [laughs]

Frasier: I guess I've got a little time for some bar room chatter. Might even do the old boy some good.
Sam: Maybe.
Frasier: Well, I'll have a tankard of your finest lager. Well, I understand the local Boston Red Sox baseball franchise has a Herculean task of it to qualify for the post-season tournament.
Sam: Yeah, they really stink this year.
Frasier: Stink? Interesting theory.

Coach: Gee, Cliff, Lewis will be here any minute.
Carla: Yeah, what's your plan?
Cliff: Plan? I have no plan. Not unless honesty, sincerity and straightforwardness are a plan.
Carla: No, I meant your medical plan.
Cliff: Oh, your humor's falling on deaf ears here, Carla.
Carla: Oh, good, you won't miss them when Lewis rips them off your head.