Lilith: What a terrible experience, Carla. Um, what do you suppose triggered this bizarre apparition?
Carla: Well, it's obvious, isn't it? Eddie's spirit does not want me to be on that date. He's come back from beyond the grave to tell me not to go out with Darryl Mead.
Frasier: Oh, Carla, you can't be serious. Ghouls do not rise from their resting place just to ruin your dating life.
Norm: Oh, Vera did.

Woody: So, what were you complaining about, Ms. Howe?
Rebecca: Thank you for asking, Woody. Last month, I purchased a Lady Baldy.
Norm: A what?
Rebecca: It's this electronic device for women and it's used to pull leg hairs out by the roots. I am telling you, this monster chewed my legs to bits. You know, and Consumer Patrol's had a lot of reports from other women about the exact same thing, but they chose me to appear on television.
Lilith: You must have written a very eloquent letter.
Rebecca: Yes, I think I did. Also, I took a piece of stationery and smacked it against my bloody, mangled legs and sent them that, too.

Frasier: All right, Lilith, let's just have out with it once and for all. Should I pass on, just who is it you'd be smacking your lips at over my open casket?
Lilith: For God's sake, Frasier, all right. If you were to die, I would weep for days on end, wear black till the end of my life, and never, ever, ever let another man touch me as long as I live. This I would do in loving remembrance of you. Ok?
Frasier: Now, was that so hard?

Norm: What's the matter with Sammy?
Woody: He's not feeling well. He ain't gonna be in today.
Norm: Ohh, a girl.
Woody: He probably won't be in tomorrow, either.
Norm: Two girls.
Woody: He might not be in the whole week.
Norm: The Laker Girls.
Woody: No, it's serious. He thinks he might have chicken pox.
Norm: Chicken pox. That's... Pretty painful for an adult and highly contagious, too.
[elsewhere, Sam is wearing a mask as he sits on his bed with six women:]
Sam: Okay, ladies, now, remember, no matter how much I beg you, don't scratch me. [The women start to put on masks]

Norm: So go over there and ask him out, huh? What do you say?
Carla: No.
Cliff: Come on, Carla.
Carla: I'm not the kind of girl who can just walk up to some guy and say hi.
Frasier: Why, Carla, what a refreshing thing to hear from someone like you.
Carla: Well, why bother saying hi when it's tattooed on your thigh?
Frasier: Where were you when I was in college?

Darryl Mead: Carla!
Carla: Darryl! You remembered me.
Darryl Mead: How could I forget?
Carla: You know, I saw you last night. You were sensational.
Darryl Mead: We didn't play a game last night.
Carla: Well, you sure scored.

Darryl Mead: So, Carla, you still married?
Carla: No, I'm a widow now. My husband passed away several months ago.
Darryl Mead: Oh, gee, Carla, I'm so sorry. I remember seeing Eddie play hockey. He was the quickest goalie on the ice. I'm really sorry about your loss.
Carla: Yeah, thanks. It's been a few months, but I'm still wearing black.
Darryl Mead: No, you're not.
Carla: Darryl, trust me.

Rebecca: Guess what, you guys? I'm going to be on television.
Norm: All right. What for?
Rebecca: Because I wrote a letter to Consumer Patrol.
Cliff: Oh, Consumer Patrol, with your host Art Steckler.
Norm: No, no, don't you remember? Art Steckler got killed last month testing that new electric blanket.
Cliff: He got electrocuted, huh?
Norm: No, no, no. His wife shot him when she found him under it with his secretary. They'd been off the air for something like a month searching for a new host.
Frasier: Whereas Lilith would have found one the next day.

Carla: Boy, you know, this feels weird.
Norm: What?
Carla: Well, my first date since Eddie's death.
Frasier: Carla, it's perfectly natural to be reticent about reentering the dating scene, but, you've... you've mourned a respectful amount of time. You know, I know of some women who would shimmy right out of that black dress and start flirting with the embalmer. [looks at Lilith]

Rebecca: Hey, you guys, what do you think? Is this dress all right for Consumer Patrol?
Frasier: Why wouldn't it be?
Rebecca: Well, I'm just afraid that the audience might be so distracted by my dress, that they won't listen to what I have to say.
Frasier: Now, that's ridiculous. Just state your case. All these people care about is the grievous, bodily damage that this product has inflicted on your sensitive... firm... milky white flesh.