Diane: Don't be coy. It doesn't go with the sloping forehead.
Sam: Did I tell you your boyfriend stopped by the other night? What's his name?
Diane: You know very well it's Frasier.
Sam: Frasier, right! Damn it. Boy, that's an easy name to forget. How are you two doing, anyway, huh?
Diane: Fine. Is there something on your mind?
Sam: No, why do you ask?
Diane: When there's a spot on an empty canvas, it tends to stand out.

Cliff: Well, I guess my choice is clear. I must follow my conscience and report this.
Sam: Oh, come on, man. It's a fragrance sample. Let it go.
Cliff: Let it go, Sammy? I let this go and tomorrow Hitler is in the White House.
Coach: I can do without that.
Cliff: Yeah, sure, it's only a perfume sample. But if the other employees see him getting away with this, they're gonna start taking things, too. First, whole magazines go missing. Then social security checks. Before you know it, Grandma's fruitcake doesn't make it to little Bobby, Peggy and Sue. And their little hearts will be broken, thinking Grandma forgot them this year.

Coach: Hey, Cliffie. Boy, can you believe the way those Sox are playing?
Cliff: Oh, boy, I really miss those carefree halcyon days when my only concern was a group of young lads playing baseball.
Norm: Cliffie, you got something on your mind?
Cliff: The shocking truth is, today I saw a fellow postal employee remove a fragrance sample from a magazine.
Sam: So?
Cliff: So, Sammy, that's in direct violation of postal employee regulations. It's a smudge on the arm of every mail carrier who ever donned this uniform.
Sam: So?
Cliff: So? Sam, look, on one hand, I don't want to be a snitch. But, on the other, I can't endorse anarchy. What should I do?
Norm: Compromise, have a beer.
Cliff: Ah, well I see I should look elsewhere for help on this.