Lilith: We're having quality family time.
Frasier: That's right. I canceled every single one of my appointments today.
Lilith: And I called in sick to the lab. I placed some gauze over the telephone and altered my voice so as to appear ill.
Carla: And the Oscar goes to...

Frasier: So, we decided to have a lovely afternoon with a picnic, and now we're off to go fly a kite.
Sam: Oh, hey, I noticed it was windy, too. I went out and I got little Frederick this kite, huh? What do you think? I've got an idea. Why don't we, uh, why don't we go try these babies. I'll be right back. I'm gonna get my jacket.
Lilith: Sam is tagging along? We need some time to ourselves.
Frasier: Well, you know, darling, it is Sam.
Lilith: Frasier, am I going to have to play "bad cop?"
Frasier: Now, let me understand are you saying that up, up until this point, you've been playing "good cop?"

Lilith: Frasier, do something.
Frasier: Well, my love, let's... Let's try to use some insight into what Sam's going through. His affection for Frederick is not unusual under the circumstances. After all, he's an aging playboy who is just now coming to realize that he has nothing, and that he's got no progeny left to carry on his name. And that is a frightening revelation for any man.
Lilith: Frasier, it's 5:55 in the morning.
Frasier: The heave-ho.

Frasier: Sam, look, as much as we adore you, and are happy that you've taken such an interest in Frederick, we, we're just not getting enough private time to ourselves.
Sam: Oh, say no more. I understand. You guys want to be alone. Sure, tell you what. Why don't, uh, Freddie and I go over to my apartment and you can catch up with us later?
Lilith: No, no, Sam. You misunderstand. We're not saying that we want to be intimate with each other right now.
Frasier: God forbid while the sun's up.

Sam: Well, I'm thinking about thinking about being a dad.
Carla: What?
Sam: Yeah. You know, I've been playing around all my life and, I don't know, you know, maybe I'm missing something.
Carla: Have you thought about getting a dog?
Sam: I don't want a dog. You know, I want someone to be with, to, to take care of, to watch grow.
Carla: Have you thought about getting a plant?

Sam: You don't think I'll be a good father?
Carla: Oh, no, no, I think you'd be a great father. Do you have a mother picked out?
Sam: No, not really.
Carla: Oh. Does that mean, uh, you're not going to ask me?
Sam: Well, I'm, I'm sorry. You know, I didn't think of that. Yeah, would you?
Carla: What are you, nuts? Do you think I'm gonna go through labor an eighth time because you're a little lonely? Selfish bastard.

Sam: Aw, you know, with me it doesn't matter. What the heck? I know a hundred women. [chuckles] What am I talking about? I know thousands of women. What am I talking about? I know tens of thousands of women. Wait, wait, wait. What am I talking about?

Carla: Sam come on, now, just think about this for a minute. Do you really, really want this?
Sam: Yeah, I really, really want this.
Carla: Come on, Sam. Do you have any idea what it means to have a kid? It's changing dirty diapers and getting spit-up stains on those shoulders of your best clothes, and... and ear infections in the middle of the night, and shoving antibiotics down their throats, and worrying about them every day and every night for the rest of your life. How does that sound?
Sam: Sounds cool.
Carla: [chuckles] Yeah. It is, kind of.
Sam: Would they, like, really spit it up on, um, leather?
Carla: [chuckles] Oh, they know fabrics.

Cliff: You know, uh, if it's a boy, I just hope he names it Clifford Clavin Malone.

Frasier: Isn't this sweet? My son and his baby-sitter passed out in a bar.