Sam: OK, one more thing here. What do you think is going to make her go to sleep faster, Brahms's "Lullaby" or "The Sounds of Spring Showers in a Rain Forest"?
Cliff: You know, Sammy, that question has plagued mankind since the beginning of time. How to lure to our bed the elusive Morpheus, son of Hypnos, known to the sand dwellers of Rome as Somnus. Now...
Norm: If you really want to put her to sleep, Sam, record him.

Frasier: Gents, mind my Corona with lime, will you? I've got to see a man about an equine.
Woody: There goes one elegant guy.
Norm: Yeah. Nothing says class like a chunk of fruit floating in your beer.
Cliff: Oh, come on, Norm. It's yuppie nouveau to have a little fruit floating in your beer.
Norm: Call me old fashioned, Cliff, the only thing I like floating in beer is my liver.

Carla: If I were Rebecca, I guarantee this would work. Somehow you get me to go to sleep.
Sam: Go on. Go on.
Carla: All right. Now, you sneak into the room, wait until I'm dreaming about you. You're going to know when that is because of the moaning and rolling around.
Sam: "Moaning," "rolling," good, good.
Carla: When I'm just at my most receptive, if you get my drift, you lay a kiss on me that will melt diamonds. I wake up, but I think I'm still dreaming, so I don't resist, and then we make hot and sloppy till the cops arrive.
Sam: Carla, you're a genius. Rebecca's going to go for this in a big way.
Carla: The hell with Rebecca. It was my idea.