Sam: Okay, guys, that's it. Closing time.
Norm: Already? It's hard to believe 17 hours can slip by that quickly.
Cliff: Well, good night, Sammy.
Sam: Good night.
Woody: Guys, don't forget, tonight's the night we go off daylight savings time. Be sure to change your clocks.
Norm: Let's see now, it's 2:00 now, so which way does it go?
Woody: That's "spring forward, fall back," Mr. Peterson.
Cliff: All right, so it's, uh, 1:00.
Norm: 1:00?
Cliff: Set 'em up, Sammy.
Norm: I was this close to going home. I love this universe.

Sam: Hey, Frasier. What's wrong? You look like you lost your best friend.
Frasier: Well, in a manner of speaking, I have. A colleague of sorts passed away today. Someone who contributed volumes to the world of psychology.
Sam: Well, I'm sorry. Is it anybody I know?
Frasier: Bombo the chimpanzee.
Sam: Oh.
Carla: Don't you remember, Sam? They shared an office.
Frasier: See, Bombo was one of Dr. Harry Harlow's apes. Dr. Harlow was a behavioral theorist who worked extensively with primates studying human parenting and child rearing. Bombo was the last of the group. And he was the baby. I can still see him clutching his little cloth surrogate mother. I don't think we'll ever see his like again.
Sam: Can I get you anything?
Frasier: Please. Something to take my mind off my troubles.
Sam: How about a banana daiquiri?
Frasier: Cute.

Diane: Well, I'm honored to have been chosen to participate in our system of jurisprudence. I'll be proud to serve on a jury of my peers. Or so they'll think. [chuckles] You know, other than voting, I think jury duty is the single greatest privilege America bestows on her citizenry.
Frasier: Couldn't get out of it, huh?
Diane: I tried everything.

Carla: You know, I've always had this thing for the goalies and catchers. Guys who wear masks. Some girls like the scorers, you know, the glamour guys? Me, I like the grunts who crouch down and take everything that's thrown at them: scarred faces, teeth missing, noses mashed to a meaty pulp. God, they're sexy.

Frasier: Dr. Frasier Crane, noted psychiatrist, winner of the Mildred Bergen Fellowship, author of 27 published articles, is out on bail.
Diane: Frasier, what happened?
Frasier: Well, you know, I've always prided myself on being a man of control and maturity. But suddenly I was swept up into this crowd's excitement. Well, damn me to a junior college for saying it, I was enjoying myself. But I guess the controlled mayhem of the situation made me more assertive. Also, there was this guy sitting in front of me who insisted on wearing his cowboy hat. Well, I asked this huckleberry several times to remove it, and he refused, and so then I just took it off his head and handed it to him, and he handed it back to me with his fist in it. [Sam laughs] Next thing I know, I'm in a holding cell at some North End station house with the cast of The Road Warrior.
Woody: Did you get Mel Gibson's autograph?
Sam: So, uh, so you had a little fight. You stood up for yourself. Come on, look me in the eye face-to-face here. Didn't it feel great?
Frasier: Well, I have to admit, there was a moment there when I had a feeling of satisfaction like never before in my life. Sorry, Diane.

Carla: But he pays for everything. You know, movies, parking, refreshments. Do you know how much a tub of popcorn is going for these days?
Norm: It's, uh, $3.70 at the Alto.
Carla: Yeah, that Eddie takes care of me real good.
Sam: But you're not falling for him, right?
Carla: Oh, look, who are we fooling here, Sam? I mean, you know my luck with men. You can't swing a dead cat without hitting some bum who once dumped on me. And Eddie LeBec is a star. You know, once he's been here a while, he'll know a lot more people, and it's "Bye-bye, Carla."
Sam: Hey.
Carla: No way some guy like that ends up with me.
Sam: Listen, will you stop cutting yourself short? You offer a lot of things to a guy.
Carla: Oh, yeah, sure. Six kids, mortgage up to my ears, stack of bills, dead-end job and fallen arches.
Sam: You know, if I weren't already engaged...

Sam: Woody, get that man a club soda, no ice, two slices of lime, and a red straw.
Woody: [chuckles] Is that really what you want?
Eddie LeBec: Yes, sir.
Woody: How'd you know that, Sam?
Sam: He ordered it yesterday.
Woody: Oh, well, then I'd better hurry.

Sam: You know, I used to, uh I used to have this little ritual when I was pitching for the Red Sox. Before every game, I'd go out to our third base coach, Ernie Pantusso, and he'd rub my tummy and I'd rub his head. Next thing we knew, the whole stadium was looking at two grown men standing in the middle of the field rubbing each other. After that we, we did it in the locker room. Pretty soon after that, we just stopped altogether.

Diane: Of course, I can't really talk about the trial.
Woman: No, no, I had the vodka gimlet.
Diane: Oh, right, I'm sorry. I could, I suppose, give you a hypothetical case, just to give you an idea. Not that it would be the same, but similar. Now, we have a defendant who's accused of attempted murder of his wife. We'll call him Scum. And a wife. Let's call her Victim. I really shouldn't be telling you this. It's just that I can't help it. I'm compelled to share it with someone. But no, no, I'm not going to say another word. I'm going to zip my mouth. [chuckles] Can I get you anything else?
Man: No, zipping your mouth will be fine.

Woody: Give me an A.
All: A!
Woody: Give me a B!
All: B!
Woody: Give me a C!
All: C!
Woody: Give me a D!
All: D!
Norm: Hey, wait a minute, Woody. What're you doing?
Woody: The alphabet. We're warming up here. Give me a...