Carla: Good evening, Mr. Clavin. How lovely to see you again.
Cliff: It's a trick, isn't it? You're gonna hurt me.
Norm: Yeah, what's the story here, Carla? You've been acting very strange all evening.
Carla: Why? What did I do?
Norm: Well, for example, you've poured me three beers without once flicking the foam up my nose.
Woody: You haven't even spit on anybody.
Sam: What is it, honey? Trouble at home?
Carla: All right, I'm gonna tell you guys. I went to see Madam Lazora this morning.
Woody: Your fortune teller?
Carla: Palmist. Anyway, she told me that my courtesy to others tonight could result in substantial wealth.
Sam: Ah.
Carla: And I'm telling you, tonight I'm taking no chances.
Norm: What, you're not even going to insult anybody?
Carla: Well, not unless I can do it so subtly that he doesn't know he's been insulted. No, tonight the bigger jackass a guy is, the more courteous I am gonna be. I'll start with numero uno. Now, I do hope you'll allow me the incredible privilege of serving you a beer, Mr. Clavin.

Frasier: It's, uh, a marriage manual. It's entitled, the, uh, The Forever Couple: The Joy of Loving One Person For the Rest of Your Life.
Norm: Ah, science-fiction. Those usually sell great.
Frasier: But you know, success does have its price tag. He's been away from his wife, Valerie, for the better part of a year. Jeez, you know, I think I'd go crazy if I was away from Lilith for that long. I don't even like to think about it.
Sam: Yeah, I'll bet.
Frasier: Well, I do think about it. I don't enjoy it.
Sam: I'm sure not.
Frasier: Well, I do enjoy it, but I'm not proud of the fact.

Dr. Crandell: I make it a point to tell my wife at least once a day, "You're my world, you're my life, I love you."
Norm: I'll bet my wife would love to hear those words. Could you give her a call?

Rebecca: Why you filthy... Okay, fine, fine. There is a chambermaid in the room. Explain it.
Mrs. Crandell: A chambermaid in a hotel? Will wonders never cease.
Sam: You know, actually, we're going to be running along here.
Rebecca: No, we're not going to be running along. All right. How about the fiddler, huh?
Dr. Crandell: I was lonely. I was going to have him play our song all night.
Rebecca: All right, all right. So have your loving husband explain why the four of us were in that closet.
Mrs. Crandell: You were there. You mean you don't know?
Rebecca: Yes, I know. Because you are the scariest bitch we would ever want to meet.
Mrs. Crandell: And you are a little tramp.
Rebecca: Tramp? Why, I ought to put you... I'm going to kill your husband! I'm going to kill him! I'm going to kill you! He's stupid, he's a fraud! He's a psycho! He's a...! I'm going to hunt you down and kill you like a dog! And why don't you get yourself some new socks, buster?!
Sam: Um... Uh, I can explain everything here. She just wanted to convince me that she's not crazy.

Rebecca: He was rubbing his foot on my leg.
Frasier: Well, perhaps he was just trying to cross his legs and he accidentally bumped into you.
Rebecca: What do you think I am, a nitwit? I am telling you that your distinguished, happily married friend was coming on to me.
Sam: Oh, please.
Rebecca: He was!
Frasier: Do you realize that you are impugning the reputation of a man that literally wrote the book on fidelity in marriage. You've insulted him, and frankly, you've insulted me.
Sam: No, you know, I see what's going on here. You know, you just projected your frustrations on to somebody else, because it's been too long since you had your tires rotated.
Rebecca: And I am telling you that he is a lying, hypocritical sleaze who needs to be neutered.

Dr. Crandell: Excuse me, Frasier. I think I better be moving along. Somehow I've antagonized Miss Howe. Rather than provoke any further embarrassment, I think it's best to simply remove my offending personality.
Frasier: Oh, Larry, must you?
Sam: No, no, Dr. Crandell, please. Uh, you see, you got to understand something about Rebecca here. She's had a very difficult past few... life.
Dr. Crandell: I've sensed some emotional problems there. It's a pity.
Rebecca: The nerve of that man saying I have an emotional problem. I'd like to meet him in a dark alley with a cleaver.

Rebecca: You're in early tonight, Frasier.
Frasier: Yes, I'm meeting a former colleague, Dr. Lawrence Crandell, for a pre-dinner drink. He's in town on a book tour.
Sam: Oh, yeah? He's a writer, huh?
Frasier: Ooh, I should say so. He's written a raging best seller. You know, if I wasn't so thoroughly happy in my own life, I might even stoop to being just a bit envious of a former colleague who's now so widely successful. Well, that is if you measure success by dollars and cents, popularity, personal fame. I'm happy for him.
Sam: What's the book about?
Frasier: Who gives a damn?

Sam: So, uh, Frasier told me that you've, uh, been baching it a long time here. It must be pretty rough, huh?
Frasier: Say, why didn't you just bring Valerie with you?
Dr. Crandell: Well, you know, she hates to travel. Besides, we decided this was a perfect opportunity to test my theories about marital fidelity. And I'm glad to say after ten months of celibacy, I can now pronounce my principle sound.
Sam: [whistles] After ten months of celibacy, I couldn't even pronounce my name.

Dr. Crandell: Still, I can't keep from wondering whether your subconscious may not be trying to tell us something.
Rebecca: I swear to you, Dr. Crandell...
Dr. Crandell: I mean, when I hear such facile denial, it always sets off a little alarm in my head.
Rebecca: Dr. Crandell.
Dr. Crandell: Call me Lawrence.
Rebecca: Let me make this as clear as I know how. There was no attraction when we met, or since. I felt nothing. I feel nothing. Zero, nada, zip.
Dr. Crandell: Zip. Interesting unconscious choice of word.
Rebecca: Try this word: out.
Dr. Crandell: All right, sorry. [exits]
Rebecca: Man. [knocking] I give up. You make me crazy with desire. I can't keep my hands off you! What do you want?!
Woody: Sign these invoices, and then be gentle.

Rebecca: Mrs. Crandell, I'm going to tell you the truth, because I feel that this has gone on too long. And as usual, I have to be the voice of reason. Forgive me for saying this, but if I were in your shoes, I would want to know. Your husband came on to me in a local bar.
Mrs. Crandell: Do you mean he propositioned you?
Rebecca: Well, he didn't exactly proposition me.
Mrs. Crandell: Well, what exactly did he do?
Rebecca: He asked me about my feelings.
Mrs. Crandell: That is his field, you know.
Rebecca: That isn't all he did. He rubbed my leg with his disgusting foot.
Sam: She never gets tired of telling this part.
Dr. Crandell: Yes, yes, I admit it. I accidentally brushed up against her leg with my foot. I apologized profusely.
Rebecca: He did not have his shoe on.
Dr. Crandell: It was hot in there. And would you believe the humiliation? A hole in my $50 hosiery.