Woody: Oh, Sam, check it out! Sheepskin covers!
Sam: What are you doing, man? Why are you buying all this vinyl cleaner, leather cleaner? I mean, sheepskin? You don't even have a car.
Woody: I know, Sam, but most of my furniture comes from the interior of cars. I've got to be careful when I shave because objects may be closer than they appear.

Frasier: I would like to nominate as the stupidest creature on Earth the one who awakens each day to drive through gridlocked traffic, to sit in a windowless office breathing re-circulated air, then returns home and collapses into a stupor... only to do the same damn thing all over again every day until he dies.
Norm: Looking forward to that vacation, eh, Fras?
Frasier: You bet. We're going to Maui.

Sam: What is it with these machines, anyway? Computers faxes, voice mail. You know, when I ran this place in the old days, I had everything I needed right up here.
Frasier: Brains, Sam?
Sam: No, good hair. Brains... [scoffs] I'm serious, you know. Good looks can open doors. Good hair blows them off their hinges.

Carla: Here you go.
Man: Hey.
Carla: Something wrong?
Man: Yes, I'll say. You didn't ask me if I needed anything else. Do you see this roll of dollar bills here?
Carla: Yeah.
Man: This is your tip. I've set it aside in advance. Now here's the deal. Every time you do something wrong, I take a dollar bill, see? That way, I get decent service. Understood?
Carla: Fair enough. Here's my deal for you. Every time you take away a dollar, I do this. [Carla puts her finger in the man's beer and flicks it at him]
Man: That just cost you another dollar. [Carla does it again] There, you happy? Your tip money's all gone.
Carla: That's just great. 'Cause I just got my own. [slams cash on the table and pours the beer over the man's head]
Norm: So, uh, how long is your brother going to be in town?
Carla: Two weeks.

Sam: Yeah, hey, how would you guys feel about Rebecca managing this place again?
Norm: Well, would it raise the price of beer?
Sam: No.
Norm: Then what do we care?

Cliff: My friends! Thanks to my buddy Earl's amazing cold remedy, you are looking at the picture of perfect health. Every sinus cavity in my head is clear and dry. Well, not dry, but moist enough to be comfortable.
Norm: Glad you're feeling better, Cliffy.
Cliff: Eh! Thank you.
Norm: Did this, uh, particular cold... Did this start out with a funny taste up in the back of your mouth?
Cliff: Uh-oh! The old acid in the adenoids.
Carla: Scratchy throat?
Pete: Yucky coating on the tongue?
Cliff: Sounds like an epidemic. My friends, I don't want to be an alarmist, but tonight - if you live through it - is going to be the worst night in your entire lives. First, the cold sweats, the pounding headache...
Norm: Cliff, I don't want to hear this.
Cliff: Don't worry, Norm. In a few hours, your ears will be so clogged you won't be able to hear anything.
Carla: Look, Clavin, you gave us this cold, and I'm going to get you for it. You're not going to know when, but I'll be there.
Cliff: Don't worry, Carla. I'll know when. I'll hear your liquid-filled lungs wheezing a mile away.

Carla: I don't know why you guys are falling all over yourselves about this Earl. So he's a nice guy. Big deal.
Earl: Uh, Carla, excuse me. I noticed you've been carrying your tray a little low. Are are your shoulders tense? Let me just... If you don't mind, let me just... [rubs Carla's shoulders]
Carla: Oh! Oh! That is the best I have ever felt without ending up with a baby.

Norm: Earl, get out from behind there. Come on, have a seat.
Earl: Oh, don't sit me down at a bar. I'll never get up.
Norm: Ah.
Earl: It's either that or go home to the wife, and God knows I hate to do that.
Norm: Do you have the other half of this amulet? [both laugh]

Carla: Still having problems with the computer, Sammy?
Sam: No, I think I've figured out what to do. [grabs a baseball bat] Kiss your keyboard good-bye.
Frasier: Sam! Sam, Sam, give me the bat. Come sit down. Now, I'm sure that Lilith would be delighted to help you with your computer. She tells me she has quite an affinity for machines. Naturally, you could have knocked me over with a feather.

Sam: Why is everybody treating me like I'm the biggest jerk on Earth?
Norm: Don't worry about that, Sammy, okay? You're the owner here. You have responsibilities. If they can't handle that, that's their problem.
Sam: Yeah, thanks.
Norm: Can I have another beer, please?
Sam: I can't run a tab anymore. I'm going to have to take cash on this.
Norm: Or maybe you are the biggest jerk on Earth. Maybe you are!