Cliff: Carla's got herself a real Poindexter there, huh? Yeah. It's sad to say that kids not accepted by their peers really never learn how to get along with people in the big grown-up world.
Norm: Why is that, Cliff? 'Cause they keep boring everyone and driving them crazy with long speeches filled with meaningless statistics?
Cliff: Yep, yeah. 63% of them live lives of quiet desperation.
Norm: And how about those who sit next to them?

Lilith: So, Carla, tell, tell. Have you bedded any other Rhodes scholars?
Carla: Uh... no. But one egghead, long-distance, phone-in father is enough for this baby factory.
Frasier: In spite of the fact that Dr. Ludlow's work takes him out of the country, I'm sure he's a marvelous parent.
Carla: No, a good parent is someone who's there. Who's there to help them out with their homework. There when they wake up in the middle of the night crying their eyes out. He's there with the bottle of Bactine when they give themselves a bad tattoo. Well, I've been there. I raised eight kids on a waitress's salary, and I want you to know they're all good kids, and not one of them has had a conviction that stood up on appeal.

Norm: Carla, look, I know you love your kids and everything... I mean, like your kids. I mean, I know you have kids... But I have never seen you this concerned before.
Carla: Well, Lud's special.
Norm: Yeah?
Carla: Yeah. I mean, whenever I come home at night, he always brings me a pan of hot water for my feet. He actually asks me how my day went. I don't know if I ever told anybody this before... I love him.
Norm: You don't have to be shy about saying that you love your kids.
Carla: Oh, why don't you just take out an ad in the Yellow Pages?