Sam: Carla, I think I care about Rebecca.
Carla: Kill me right now, Sam. Just drive this pool cue right through my heart. You know how many years it's taken me to get over that horrible thing you had with... With...
Sam: Diane.
Carla: Shut up! Shut up, please! I beg you, don't do this to me again!

Frasier: So, Sam, do you remember anything else about the dream?
Sam: Man, it was the eeriest thing. I mean, it was real, and it was vivid, like real life.
Carla: Sammy, that's a premonition dream. That means it's really going to happen.
Frasier: Carla, that's an old wives tale.
Carla: I'm an old wife. I know about these things.

Frasier: Well, perhaps your dreams are trying to tell you about something too frightening for waking life.
Sam: Like what?
Frasier: Well, like you care. You care about Rebecca.
Sam: Come on, Frasier, you know me. How can I care about her? We haven't done the main thing I care about.
Frasier: Forgive me, Sam. I forgot about your high moral standards.
Lilith: You mean to say that you can't care about a woman unless you sleep with her first?
Sam: Well, yeah. I got this kind of caring mechanism that only gets switched on by a naked trip to the love zoo.
Lilith: You're kidding.
Sam: Well, no, it doesn't always get switched on. I mean, sometimes I go to bed with a babe and find out I don't care, but by then, who cares?
Lilith: Lovely.
Sam: Aw, come on, Lilith, don't get me wrong. If I do care, I'm as loyal as a dog.
Lilith: Dog would be the right term, yes.
Sam: [scoffs] Care about Rebecca.

Sam: Guys, guys, guys. Come on. You can talk about Rebecca having a good time all you want. It's no skin off my nose.
Frasier: Are you sure you aren't still repressing just a bit?
Sam: All right, maybe a little bit. I mean, it doesn't seem fair, does it? I mean, I spent three years loosening the cap on that peanut butter jar. And right now she's sticking to the roof of somebody else's mouth.

Frasier: Excuse me while I was blinking, did we all just suddenly time travel back to the age of the druids?
Lilith: I'm not saying the dream was psychic. But perhaps your subconscious mind has observed something subtle between Rebecca and Robin Colcord that disturbs you.
Carla: Well, I know how to find out right now. Sammy, give me some of your fingernail clippings. I'll have Madame Mazora burn them and inhale them while she's in a trance.
Frasier: Oh, take Lilith along. The three of you can gather round the kettle and stir.

Sam: Hey, I don't like it anymore than you do, but there it is.
Carla: It's all right, Sam. It's going to be OK. At least you've taken the first step. Admitting you have the problem is half the cure.
Sam: What am I gonna do?
Carla: We'll move to Vegas, and I'll be your love slave.

Frasier: Hail, fellow, I bring ye joyful news. Judging from the in utero movements of our little child-to-be, it would appear that the birth of a Cranelet is imminent give or take a month.
Lilith: Oh, feel that, dadders. I think it was an elbow.
Frasier: Hello, little elbow.
Norm: Wait, wait, wait. Now, you can actually feel the little kid in there?
Lilith: You don't mean to tell me that in the myriad times Carla's been pregnant, you've never felt her babies move?
Carla: Hey, no guy touches my belly unless he's paying for dinner.

Frasier: Lilith, might the boys have the privilege of experiencing this divine movement within you?
Lilith: Oh, certainly. Put your hands here. [Woody, Norm and Cliff place their hands on Lilith's stomach] There it is. You feel that?
Cliff: Nah, I didn't feel anything.
Woody: I think I heard him move.
Frasier: No, no, that was my stomach grumbling. I haven't had a bite since breakfast. [Woody puts his hand on Frasier's stomach]
Woody: Hey, I think your stomach just moved. Guys, check this out, you can really feel this.
Norm: [puts his hand on Frasier's stomach] Whoa! Feels like a big wave in there, doesn't it?
Cliff: [puts his hand on Frasier's stomach] Hey, now that felt like an elbow.

Robin: Yes, anyway, Miss Howe, I'm here because I've received several of your letters.
Rebecca: I don't believe they got to you.
Robin: Well, I have a male secretary who likes the pictures of yourself you enclosed, and I appreciate your business sense.
Rebecca: Really?
Robin: Yes, Howard was especially enamored of the shot of you in the form-fitting business suit licking an envelope.
Rebecca: No. I meant the business sense part.
Robin: Oh, yes, regarding my South End property.
Sam: I wouldn't mind having one of those "licking" pictures.
Robin: Yes, it's quite tastefully done.
Sam: Oh, well, uh, never mind then.

Robin: By the way, Miss Howe, I'm much obliged for your suggestion that I unload the South End property before the market price bottomed out. Thanks to you, I've started to turn quite a nifty little profit.
Rebecca: You took my advice.
Robin: Actually, Miss Howe, no. To sell when land values are so depressed might be considered insane, so I've done just the opposite. I'm developing the land as an exclusive, urban complex. It's quite similar to something I've done on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. May I use your desk?
Rebecca: Oh, please.
Robin: Well, you see, first, we bulldoze the land... [Rebecca gasps as Robin swipes objects off her desk] Did I startle you?
Rebecca: Yes... but I like it. Whoops, missed something.
Robin: Yes, well... Thank you. Now, here, we put our championship golf course, and here, here, and here...
High-rise condominiums overlooking the golf course and the... Artificial lake. Well, something has to serve as an ice rink in the winter.
Rebecca: It's beautiful.
Robin: Just there, that spot of perspiration where your hand was, that's the performing arts center.