Donald Zajac: Mrs. LeBec, do you own this bar?
Carla: Get out of here. Do I look like I own this bar?
Donald Zajac: Frankly, no. But someone with an income of $1.3 million obviously isn't a cocktail waitress.
Norm: Don, is that you?
Donald Zajac: Hey, Peterson, how are you doing?
Norm: All right, buddy. Whoa. Hey, you think Carla owns this place? That's some kind of major snafu, pal. What have you got, one of those American-made computers?
Donald Zajac: I guess you're right, Norman. If she made that kind of money, why would she dress like this?
Carla: [laughs] These are my good clothes. [all laugh] I even got my hair done.
Norm: Oh, the thought that Carla could ever pull down a million bucks is absolutely nuts. All the tips she's ever made in her life wouldn't amount to that, even if she did report it, you know what I mean? [laughs] Well, carry on.
Donald Zajac: Uh, I think you'd better come with me, Mrs. LeBec, and get your receipts. And they all better be genuine.
Carla: I'm going to get you, Norm. I don't care if they put me in solitary confinement with nothing but bread and water. I'll survive, because I got a mission... Get Norm Peterson! You remember, I got friends on the outside!
Norm: By the way, Carla, no charge.

Carla: Last call, everybody!
Woody: Already? Boy, I can't believe it.
Norm: Oh. Time plays funny tricks on you when you get older, Woody.
Cliff: Yeah. You're not a kid anymore, Woodman.
Frasier: Yes. Life rushes past you. Months and years seem to blend into one indistinguishable blur, while from behind you hear the steady relentless beat of the approaching wings of grim-faced death.
Woody: I just meant my watch was slow, but now I don't think I'm going to be able to sleep tonight.

Carla: Sammy, I just said it was from the IRS, the guys who got Al Capone.
Frasier: Well, Carla, being afraid of one of the most omnipotent and powerful agencies in the world is, of course, quite understandable, but the anxiety caused by not dealing with what's in that letter is far worse than the real situation.
Carla: Yeah. Maybe you guys are right.
Frasier: Nothing to fear but fear itself.
Carla: I'm getting audited.
Frasier: And that.

Rebecca: Come on, you guys. My favorite college professor's coming to town. I've invited her to dinner. Oh, Sam, straighten up all those cocktail napkins. I want all the jokes pointing in the same direction.
Sam: Whoa, whoa. Don't you think you're going overboard on these superficial little things? I mean, who's going to notice?
Rebecca: Sam, your hair's clumping up a little bit on this side.
Sam: What? Oh, hey, guys, you're supposed to tell me when this happens!

Rebecca: Sam, I do not want you talking to her about business or babes or anything else. I am trying to impress the woman.
Carla: And you asked her to meet you here? You asked her to meet you, period? Honey, catch a train to reality.
Rebecca: [scrapes off chewing gum] Eww! This piece is fresh.
Carla: Oh. Hey, I was looking for that one. It has some good chews left.
Rebecca: Ugh.

Sam: So she was your, uh, best student, huh?
Alice: Oh, God, no. But she was one of my favorites. Oh, sure, some of the kids got better grades, some were more creative, and some you just knew were going to make it, but Rebecca... Oh, gee, what was my point? Oh, yes. No one wanted success more fiercely than Becky Howe. You just can't beat determination. Even today, I hold Rebecca up as an example to my students.
Rebecca: You do?
Alice: You bet. I tell them about that little talk we had at the end of the senior year. Remember what I said to you?
Rebecca: That I flunked the final, and have to repeat the course in summer school, and get my diploma in the mail?
Alice: Uh-huh. And you did it. You held your head up and persevered. Anyone else would have had a nervous breakdown.
Rebecca: I did have a nervous breakdown.
Alice: But you completed the course, as well as, uh, several lovely macrame plant hangers.
Woody: And today she's our leader.

Rebecca: Sam... May I speak with you over here privately a second?
Sam: Sure. Think we'll get any snow?
Rebecca: You germ.
Sam: What?
Rebecca: You insect. I cannot believe you slept with Alice Anne Volkman. And how could you take advantage of a lonely older woman like that?
Sam: Oh, sweetheart, when the lights go out, everybody's the same age, and nobody's lonely.
Rebecca: I cannot believe you made my mentor, my idol, just another notch on your bedpost.
Sam: Hey, hey. That's not true. I don't have a bedpost, which you'd know if you'd ever had the decency to come to my bedroom.
Rebecca: Oh, this is my fault. I never should have brought her here. All I ever wanted to do was impress the woman.
Sam: Well, I got some good news for you. First thing she said after she put out her cigarette was, "Hey, Sam, you're very impressive."

Rebecca: How can you be so insensitive?
Sam: What?
Rebecca: She's not another one of your dumb bimbos! She doesn't just take sex lightly, you know. What are you going to do when she wants to see you again?
Sam: See? Oh, please.
Rebecca: Yes. She's a very classy woman. She probably thinks there's some kind of commitment here.
Sam: I don't... I don't think so.
Rebecca: Sam, trust me.
Sam: Well... You know her better than I do. I certainly don't want any misunderstanding here. I'll give her a call.
Rebecca: Oh, yeah, right. Some faceless, anonymous, blow-off phone call that you have made a thousand times before.
Sam: That's why I suggested it.
Rebecca: I tell you what you are going to do, young man... You are going to march over to that hotel right now, and you are going to straighten things out.
Sam: Hey, first of all, I only march when my mom tells me, and, second, if I go over there, I'm still on the clock. That's another one of those business things we discussed... In the shower.

Carla: OK, Norm. Look, if anybody asks, on November 25th, I bought you a Mercedes for business reasons.
Norm: Great. It's got one of those car phones, right?
Carla: Yeah.
Norm: Don't tell Vera the number.

Woody: Carla, I don't get it. You buy Mr. Clavin dinner, you buy Mr. Peterson a new car. What about me? I'm your friend.
Carla: OK. Woody. Um... On March 15th, I took you to Hawaii.
Woody: Sure. The rainy season.