Frasier: Please, Lilith don't you think you could forgive me?
Lilith: I don't know. At this moment, my feelings for you are ambivalent. I need to sort them out. I'm going to go out and wander the streets aimlessly. I'll take my usual route.
Frasier: You know, I have an idea, Popsicle. Uh, why don't I run upstairs and make us a nice warm, soothing bath, hmm?
Lilith: Well, Mr. Bubble does always cheer me so.
Frasier: Once begun, it's half done.

[on TV:]
Sam: Tonight I'm going to tackle the issue that's tearing professional sports apart: natural grass or artificial turf? Now this reporter's not afraid to say that he's firmly in favor of natural grass. It's softer, causes fewer injuries, and let's face it, folks: it looks prettier on TV. That's just one guy's opinion. Joanne?
Joanne: Gee, Sam, I heard somewhere that in an indoor stadium it's impossible to grow real grass.
Sam: Well, yes, yes, uh... In indoor stadiums, you have to use the fake stuff.
Dr. Buzz: And I've heard that some of the more recent synthetic blends actually do help reduce injuries.
Sam: Oh. Well, I hadn't heard that, Doc. That's pretty amazing.
Joanne: So what are you saying here, Sam?
Sam: Well, I guess I'm saying that I could go either way on it.
Joanne: So you have no opinion on this?
Sam: No, I have two opinions. And that's one guy's opinions.

Rebecca: Well, I don't care if you're famous or not. I don't need a bartender. But you're perfectly welcome to come here as a patron anytime. And I personally guarantee you'll be treated with every courtesy. Unless you're waited on by Miss Tortelli.

Cliff: Oh, uh, l, uh, hate to be a buttinsky here, but, uh, this is the absolute worst time to buy a house.
Sam: Why is that?
Cliff: Ah, seller's market. Unless you run into that, uh, rare breed, you know, the motivated seller. Now, you know, for a price, I could put you in a sweet little, uh, three-bed, two-bath number. Uh, it's got, uh, fishnetting over the patio and a handmade, uh, uh, lava rock fire pit in the back.
Norm: Cliffie, uh, that sounds a little bit like your house.
Cliff: It is my house, Norm.
Norm: Wait, wait, wait now. You said your mother was going to live there till the day she died.
Cliff: Well, uh, she's clean, and she doesn't eat much.

Frasier: Hey, Wood, what you working on?
Woody: Cheers newsletter.
Frasier: Wood, Cheers doesn't have a newsletter.
Woody: Wow, there's a scoop. I'll make that my lead story.

Diane: Nick, will you give up on me? You and I are an impossibility. The only thing you instill in me is the desire to flee. And then to be de-flea'd.

Frasier: Well, Diane, Sam, congratulations to both of you. Diane, I hope you're planning to stay for the entire ceremony this time. Ours was... [laughs] Ours was very touching, I thought.

Norm: [enters] Afternoon, everybody.
All: Norm!
Woody: How are you today, Mr. Peterson?
Norm: Never been better, Woody. You know, just once I'd like to be better.

Frasier: Diane, now listen, uh, listen, I think the joke's gone far enough, don't you? You haven't eaten a decent meal in a week. You're living off of cigarettes and coffee. I mean, for God's sake, this little literary magazine's circulation must be what, 600.
Diane: That's just the beginning. You see, the original 600 readers drop their copies on buses, in taxicabs and doctors' offices. And another 600 people pick them up and take them to the airport, where they go all over the country. And then they get taken on international flights. Tierra del Fuego, Sierra Leone; all the remotest parts of the world. And soon, I defy you to find me a house, a hut, an igloo or a wickiup that doesn't have a copy on the coffee table.
Frasier: Diane?
Diane: And then, then, then... [voice breaking] everyone in the world, every living thing will be laughing at me! Because he got published, and I did not!

Cliff: Oh, boy. Hey, you're gonna love it down at the lodge, you know. After a hard day's work, it's a great place to unwind.
Woody: Yeah, wearing those turbans, you probably need a place to unwind. You know, unwind. [laughs] Turbans? How they're all wound up around your head and you gotta unwind 'em?
Cliff: Hey, uh good one, Woody.
Woody: I was voted class clown.
Norm: You should be proud.
Woody: Yeah, I was only running for class president.