Kim: You're absolutely right, Norman. I can't believe we've been the perpetrators of this kind of discrimination.
Robert: We'll see you, Norman.
Norm: No, well, listen... Hey, folks, I could still, you know, decorate your mountain retreat there.
Robert: Kim and I happen to be people of principle, all right? And we put our trust in you, our faith. We trusted you with our most prized possession, our home. And how did you return that trust? You lied to us, you betrayed us. You made fools of us.
Norm: I could do it for half price.
Robert: Here's the key. There's Perrier in the fridge. If the neighbors ask, you're a plumber.
Norm: Gotcha, can do, can do. Thank you so much. Thank you.

Carla: [on the phone] I don't know, Eddie. Try- Try under the bed. Well, if they're not there, look in the back of the closet, or behind the dresser, or in the washing machine. Yeah, if- If you still can't find them, call me back. [hangs up] I swear to God, that man would lose his head if it weren't bolted on.
Cliff: What's, uh what's up there, Carla?
Carla: Eddie wants to take the twins for a walk.
Cliff: Uh, can't find his shoes, huh?
Carla: No, he can't find the twins.

Norm: Sam, uh, I need a favor, pal. Okay, I have these clients, and they're big fans of yours.
Sam: Oh.
Norm: And, uh, it'd mean a lot if you could just come over and say hi to them.
Sam: Oh, no problem.
Norm: Thanks so much, Sammy. Thanks, bud. Oh, and uh, one more thing, man, okay? We're lovers.

Norm: How 'bout those Celtics, huh? [everyone is silent] What, what, what, what? What?
Cliff: Norm? How could you do this to us?
Norm: What? Do what?
Cliff: We're your best friends. I mean, I can't believe that you didn't feel close enough to share this part of your life with us.
Norm: This part, what? Guys, I'm straight, I'm not gay.
Cliff: No, no. Who cares about that? You can get stuff at wholesale.
Sam: I need a sofa.
Norm: Yeah?
Woody: And I could use a lamp.
Cliff: And, uh, can you get me a deal on a good Bacca lounger?
Norm: All right, all right. But I have to tell you folks that I am not cheap.
Sam: Even for your lover?

Frasier: Oh, much better. Yes, much better, yes. You know, I never thought our wedding portrait lived there. Um, where should it go, Ivan?
Ivan: Here's a spot. [drops the painting in the trash can]
Lilith: Perfect. Why clutter a home with mementos?
Ivan: Did I tell you last night I programmed myself to dream about your space?
Lilith: You didn't. We're thrilled.
Ivan: Hmm. To begin with, we lose this wall.
Frasier: Uh, by lose, do you mean we redesign it so that it practically disappears, or lose, we knock it down so that we're left facing the back of our stove?
Ivan: Hmm. Fret not. We'll be transforming il cucina into an atrium.
Lilith: I love this idea. I adore it. But what about eating?
Ivan: I design, I don't eat. Now, over here I imagine removing the ceiling and extending the wall up to the second story, culminating in a skylight to flood the room with natural illumination.
Frasier: But, uh that's our that's our bedroom up there.
Ivan: Is that all you people think about, eating and sleeping?

Lilith: Doctor, might I have a word with you?
Frasier: Certainly, Doctor.
Lilith: How do you feel about Ivan?
Frasier: Feel? Look, the man is one of the most famous designers in the city. He's been written up in every magazine from Metropolitan Home to HG. He's got more awards on his shelves than we have shelves. I'd like to beat the crap out of him.
Lilith: Maybe we should let him go.
Frasier: If that's your final decision, my cherub, I concur.
Lilith: The heave-ho.
Frasier: Wait. At the risk of sounding sexist, I do believe this is man's work. It requires a firm hand. Please feel free to leave the room if you must. This could get unpleasant. [to Ivan] Sir. You're too good for us. Your masterful design would make our poor little lives just seem drab by comparison, and of course, we'll, uh, see to your severance pay, two weeks? [off Ivan's look] Six months?
Ivan: Fine.
Frasier: I can't tell you what a once-in-a-lifetime thrill it's been to bask in your talent. Uh, bye-bye now. Watch the steps. [Ivan exits] Huh.
Lilith: I only hope he can recover from that tongue lashing.

Lilith: So, dandelion, now that you've given away the farm to Ivan, do you have some Swiss bank account we can empty to pay another decorator?
Frasier: Well, I'll go that one better, Dove bar. I submit that between the two of us, we have enough taste and intelligence to redesign our own habitat, sans outside help.
Lilith: Bite me, I love you.
[After Frasier playfully bites Lilith's neck, the pair of them walk around the room searching for inspiration]
Frasier: I take back my bite. We suck.

Lilith: Much better. Much better!
Norm: Pardon me?
Lilith: Yes, by simply moving that chair, an intimate conversation area is created, at the same time, opening up a new traffic pattern that gives the entire room a whole new dynamic sense of flow.
Norm: Plus, I can spackle behind here. Of course, if if you really want a better shot at the intimate thing, I'd, uh, take these, uh... What do you call it, these Louis Couture's jobbies, uh, and move them over like so. Get the table over this way. Okay. Now, this table would have to come like yea. Right? And, uh, sofa could come around this way. Of course. Okay? Now, uh, that desk has got to come out of there, you put the piano into the bay, all right? That chrome and glass, you put into the harbor. Uh, I tell you what. I'd- l'd move into the warm tones, all right? Reupholster, re-drape, the whole damn thing. Splash a little bit of paisley around. Throw down a nice Bukhara rug. Top it off with a fine piece or two of chinoiserie, and we're there.
Frasier: Well, bite us, Norm, we love you.

Frasier: Oh, it's a pity. You see, we've just met this new couple, and they- They need a decorator.
Lilith: Dearest, Norm has made his feelings clear.
Frasier: Yes, but they're very well off.
Lilith: Frasier, it's not a matter of money.
Frasier: They're willing to pay five figures.
Lilith: But, Frasier-
Norm: Hey, Elvira, back off.

Carla: If the left side of Cliff's brain leaves New York on a train traveling at 65 miles per hour, and the right side of Cliff's brain leaves L.A. on...
Woody: Wait, wait, wait. Let me get a pencil.