Norm: [enters] Evening, everybody.
All: Norm!
Sam: How's life treating you, Norm?
Norm: Well, Sammy, it's not. So I sure hope you are.

Sam: Hey, Cliffie, how're you doing?
Cliff: Not well, Sam. Boy, am I mad! I've never been this upset! Boy, three words, fellas. Three words: Dames is grief.
Norm: Fighting with Ma, huh?
Cliff: Oh, and how. It seems like that's all we do anymore. You know, you'd think it'd be a perfect set-up mother and a grown son living in a one bedroom apartment. But no. Reality check, gentlemen. Life is not like the movies, I guess, huh?
Sam: I'm sure it'll all blow over, Cliffie.
Cliff: No, no way, Sammy, not this time. I tell you that broad's pushed me too hard. Too hard, I tell you. It's about time I started pushing back. She's just gone and created a monster, that's all. But this monster is not gonna lie in some tomb of ice. No, sirree. My anger will melt that ice, so that I might rise up and, and crush the Tokyo of the buildings there beneath the talons of my animosity...
Frasier: Cliff, Cliff. We all appreciate how hard you're working on this metaphor, but we get the idea.

Cliff: Well, here we are. Oh, Ma! Look at this! Even better than the picture in the brochure.
Esther Clavin: Yes, I expect I'll be perfectly delighted once I stop weeping and feeling carsick.
Cliff: Aw, come on, Ma, the ride wasn't that bad.
Esther Clavin: You drive too fast. All young people do. I've often said, "A lot of needless accidents could be avoided if they'd just raise the legal driving age to 50."

Woody: Well, he said he had a job to take care of at home.
Carla: Yeah, a little digging in the backyard, maybe. Getting rid of the murder weapon.
Frasier: Come on, Carla. I can't believe you people are still pursuing that paranoid fantasy about Cliff.
Carla: It's no fantasy, Frasier. And isn't it interesting that you're the one who keeps defending him?
Frasier: Well, I'm not defending him. I'm merely saying...
Carla: Where is Lilith these days, anyhow? Has anyone here heard from Lilith lately?
Norm: Oh, come on, Carla, lay off.
Carla: And what about Vera, Norm? Where is Vera?
Paul: Carla.
Carla: And has anyone ever seen Paul's alleged ex? You're all sick. It's an evil conspiracy. A bunch of frustrated men who slaughter women and then chop up their bodies in the dead of night! Oh, man! I'd better have a date pretty soon or I'm gonna start turning weird.

Sam: Say, Kelly, you go to a lot of those classical concert things, don't you? Do you really enjoy them?
Kelly: Oh, I love them, Sam. I just sit there and let my mind become a total blank.
Sam: How, how do you do that?
Kelly: How do I do what?
Sam: You have a nice dinner, Kelly. Why don't you order some protein, sweetheart.

Rebecca: How do I look?
Sam: Wow! You're dressed a little fancy, aren't you, to go over to some guy's house and listen to some music?
Rebecca: First of all, it is not a house. It is a stately mansion. And secondly, it is not "some guy." It is Mr. Gaines, the man I adore.
Sam: "Adore?" Come on, what are you doing? You don't even know the guy's first name, do you?
Rebecca: It's Mister. And if I play my cards right tonight, I might just become Mrs. Mr. Gaines. Just think of it, Sam. Starting tonight I am no longer the old Rebecca Howe. I am the new Rebecca Howe. This is going to be the start...
Both: Of a whole new life for me.
Rebecca: Have I said that before?
Sam: Only about a thousand times.
Both: Well, this time it's different. Wow.

Sam: Honey, you're doing it again. You're going completely overboard. You do this time and time again. And I just, I don't want to see you get hurt.
Rebecca: You're right. I'm rushing into things again, aren't l?
Sam: Yeah. Listen, listen, it- It's just a simple date, right? You're going over to a guy's house and you listen to a little music.
Rebecca: That's right, I'm just listening to a little music.
Sam: Yeah.
Rebecca: And I do like some classical music. l, I... maybe they'll play Wagner. I like Wagner. What's that catchy little tune that he has that I like? Oh, I know. [hums "Wedding March"]
Sam: You're doing it...

Norm: Where's Woody?
Sam: Oh, his father-in-law took him and Kelly to see the Boston Symphony.
Norm: Ah!
Sam: Probably thought Woody needed a little musical culture.
Norm: Yeah.
Frasier: The Boston Symphony is offering "Mahler's Third" this evening, one of my absolute favorites. It always brings salt water to Lilith's eyes. Tears to you and me, saline secretions to her.

Carla: I knew this day would come. Clavin whacked his mother.
Norm: Come on, Carla. He said she was "out in the car."
Carla: Yeah, and soon she'll be out in the woods.
Norm: Yeah, well, maybe she's getting her own place, you know?
Carla: Yeah, she's probably getting a lot of places. Especially after the bears dig her up.
Frasier: Oh, knock it off, Carla. Cliff didn't kill anybody.
Paul: Why not? What do we really know about him?
Carla: We know he is weird.
Norm: He's weird, but he's not that weird. Look, to kill his mother, he'd have to be some kind of slobbering, degenerate dual-personality psychopath.
Carla: Anybody got a problem with that?

Cliff: Oh, come on, Ma. You know I'm just doing what's best for you. [groans] Come on, Ma. We've both got to be strong about this.
Esther Clavin: I suppose you're right.
Cliff: Well, you're darned tootin', I'm right. I mean, you're gonna have a lot of fun here, Ma. The brochure says the day's crammed with activities. You'll play bingo to your heart's content. You'll make new friends. These are your golden years.
Esther Clavin: Oh, bless your heart. You've given me what every mother dreams of... a tastefully furnished room in which to die among strangers.
Cliff: Ma, come on. We're, we're gonna be strong, remember? Now, is there anything you need?
Esther Clavin: Well, you could keep my garden up. I think there are a couple of bags left of that steer manure you gave me last Mothers' Day.