[some time in the future:]
Lawyer: I am sorry about the passing of your husband, Lilith. Frasier was a good man, and we will all miss him.
Lilith: Thank you.
Lawyer: Well, I now have the unhappy task of reading your late husband's will.
Frederick: You okay, Mother?
Lilith: Yes. Thank you, Frederick.
Lawyer: "Sam Malone's sperm count is well within normal range."
Lilith: That damn bar.

Rebecca: Woody, where's Sam?
Woody: "Woody, where's Norm and Cliff?" "Woody, where's Sam?" Now I know how Mr. Krapence feels. How come no one ever walks in and asks me where I am?
Rebecca: Woody, where are you?
Woody: Don't ask me now. Ask me when I'm not around.

Lilith: Frasier, making out a will is a sensible precaution, and one you've been avoiding for months. We're seeing the lawyer this afternoon, and we have to get these questions answered.
Frasier: Look, darling, I find this entire will discussion troubling. It's not easy to talk about one's mortality. Oh, just the thought of of being apart from you and-and little Frederick... It's well, it's... It's just hard.
Lilith: So, who gets the wok?
Frasier: The wok?! My God, woman, we're talking about death here! My death, your death, the end of everything! Being lowered into the grave in a silk-lined casket!
Lilith: Yes. And?
Frasier: And it's upsetting to mammals like me!