Cliff: Look at this, Normie, the singing nightingale.
Lilith: You told them about my singing?
Frasier: Well, everyone was asking why my hair was falling out in clumps, yes.
Norm: So, uh... How are the, uh, singing lessons coming, huh?
Lilith: Just fine, thank you.
Frasier: Now, Lilith, you are being too modest. They're going splendidly. Why, just this afternoon, Lilith received a romantic proposition from a young moose. From northern Quebec, wasn't it, dear? I mean, you were pointed in that direction, weren't you?

Lilith: Well, I rise to your challenge. I'm going to sing Frederick's favorite song, made famous by Al Jolson.
Frasier: We ain't heard nothin' yet.
Lilith: [sings] When there are gray skies I don't mind the gray skies you make them blue, Sonny boy friends may forsake me let them all forsake me you'll pull us through, Sonny boy you're sent from heaven...
Cliff: I'm going to go give my ma a call.
Lilith: You've made a heaven for me right here on earth...
Norm: Yeah, I think l...
Lilith: when I'm old and gray, dear.
Tony: This is beautiful.
Lilith: Promise you won't stray, dear...
Carla: I'm going to send my ma some flowers.
Woody: I'm going to go rent The Jazz Singer.
Lilith: Sonny boy.
Frasier: Lilith, I apologize. That was just lovely. I've never heard your voice filled with such tenderness and emotion. Why have you never sung to me like that?
Lilith: Because your breath doesn't smell like cookies.

Woody: Hey, Terry, what are you doing here?
Terry: I just wanted to give you back your keys. I'm moving out.
Woody: What's the matter? What'd I do?
Terry: Nothing. You couldn't have been a better roommate. You left me alone, which is just what I needed. I had time to think. I've decided I'm going back to my husband.
Woody: Husband?
Terry: Yeah, we had a big fight yesterday. I needed someplace to stay. See, we were arguing again over his awful temper and his fits of crazy jealous rage. But we worked it all out. By the way, Woody. He wants to meet the guy I spent the night with.
Woody: Oh, well, God, I'd love to, but l, uh... You know... This is my break, and I usually like to spend this time running as fast as I can.

Sam: You be careful when you pick roommates now. Being an old ballplayer, I'm kind of an expert on the subject. The guys out there who just want to stay up all night, play loud music, bring girls in at all hours... Now these are the fun guys. These are the guys you want.

Terry: Hi. Is there a Woody Boyd here?
Woody: Yes, ma'am. What can I do for you?
Terry: Woody, I'm Terry Gardner. I'm responding to your ad for a roommate.
Woody: Oh. Well, when I heard the name Terry, I automatically assumed it was a guy.
Terry: Oh. Well, if it bothers you that I'm not a guy...
Woody: No, don't go having some big expensive operation for me.
Terry: No, I meant that I would understand.
Woody: Oh, right. Well, listen, you came all this way. Why don't you just sit down. I'd better hear you out.

Rebecca: Oh, give me that. You guys, she's not that good-looking.
Norm: Oh, no? I'll show you how good-looking she is. Barry, what do you think of this babe?
Barry: I'd switch.

Frasier: Jean Marie. Oh, the name just glides off the tongue. Of course I hope it doesn't do that tonight when I'm in the rack with Lilith.

Rebecca: I wish I could go to that ball tonight and see her in action, see what Robin thinks is so damn special about her. I'd love to be a fly on the wall.
Sam: I'd love to be a fly on the ceiling.
Rebecca: What's the difference?
Sam: Better view of those cha-chas.

Rebecca: Sam, I never thought it would come to this, but now I see I'm going to have to eat crow and ask something that I never thought I'd have to ask, especially of you.
Sam: Don't say another word, Rebecca. I'll order more vermouth right away.
Rebecca: No, Sam, it's not that.
Sam: Oh. Something else? Something of a more personal nature, perhaps?
Rebecca: You're going to make me ask you this, aren't you?
Sam: Yeah.
Rebecca: All right, fine. l, um... I want to be as good in bed as Jean Marie. Are we out of vermouth?
Sam: No. All right, class, so you want to learn all about the wonderful art of love, eh? Now, you're going to need lab partners for this. Hmm. There's an odd number of you. I guess the professor's going to have to participate, won't he.
Rebecca: Sam, be serious. Come on. This means a lot to me.

Woody: [enters] Miss Howe, we're out of vermouth.
Sam: No, we're not, Woody. Get out of here, man.
Woody: Well, where is it, Sam? A matinee just let out, and there's a busload of old ladies screaming for martinis.
Sam: Woody, there's a case of it on the second shelf in the storeroom, all right?
Woody: Lady, put the mailman down.