Frasier: Oh, Niles, what are you doing here?
Niles: Well, I've got a crisis. Tomorrow's Mel's birthday and I'm planning a very romantic evening but my Gaggenau is on the fritz.
Martin: Oh, jeez, I don't need to hear this.
Frasier: Dad. It's a stove.
Martin: I know. Six burners and a griddle. Don't you guys ever talk about cars?

Roz: Anyway, I was supposed to read "The Great Gatsby" last night but I couldn't get Alice to sleep. So could you give me a quick summary?
Frasier: Well, all right, er, it was a time known as the Jazz Age. Wall Street was booming, bootleg hooch was flowing and the young people were doing a new dance called the Charleston.
Roz: Where were you when I was trying to get Alice to sleep. Could you just get to it already?

Frasier: Listen, I'm sorry to uproot you like this.
Martin: Oh, it's all right. I'd rather clear the decks for a date than for one of your theme parties. Although I am kinda sorry I missed "An Evening With Moe Howard."
Frasier: That was Noel Coward.

Frasier: No, It's true, I bumped into her today at the Café.
Niles: Lorna Lenley? You, sir, have moxie! Why, even with all my vested authority as hall monitor I could never muster the courage to ask to see her bathroom pass. And you asked her out. Whoa! I bow down before you, I doff my cap to you.
Frasier: Well, actually it's not really a date.
Niles: I knew it.
Frasier: You see, she's coming over to appraise the apartment. She's in Real Estate and I tried to ask her out and I choked. I did get the impression that she was interested in me, though.
Niles: Well of course she is. Oh, and the coach called, you're starting in the big game on Sunday.

Lorna: I had a wonderful time last night.
Frasier: Me too. It was like being back in high school, but with sex.

Martin: I still don't understand why you have to do all the cooking. Why don't you just take Mel out for a nice meal?
Niles: Well, because through cooking I can truly express my feelings for her. You know, the French have a saying...
Martin: Okay, okay, I was just making conversation until we got home.

Niles: Whisk. Spoon. Cheesecloth. [Daphne wipes Niles head down with a cloth; an over timer dings] Perfect timing. Daphne, open the oven. Ready.
Daphne: Shall I close, Dr. Crane?
Niles: Please.
Daphne: Do you think it'll be all right?
Niles: It's out of our hands now, Daphne.

Daphne: Oh, you silly sod, here, run it under some cold water, I'll fetch the aloe cream. Come here. This'll help.
Niles: I can't believe I just did that.
Daphne: Oh, I do that sort of thing all the time. You must be careful. Those pan handles get awfully hot.
Niles: Oh, well, not anymore. It's got a protective coating of skin on it.

Niles: No, this is about Daphne. I burned my hand while I was cooking and she began putting first aid cream on it and in a very tender way and then, uh, Dad came in and she jumped as if she felt guilty. Is it possible Daphne has feelings for me?
Frasier: [without delay] No.
Niles: Ah, well. As long as you've considered it from all angles.
Frasier: If she was tender it was because you burnt your hand. If she jumped it was because Dad startled her. Come on, Niles, can't you see what's really going on here?
Niles: Well, obviously, I haven't a clue. I thought that man's monkey was waving hello.

Niles: I suppose there could be commitment issues here. Cooking a meal for one's mate is a big first step.
Frasier: Yes, especially for you. I mean Maris never let you cook for her.
Niles: That's true. The closest I ever got was re-stocking the pills in her bedside Lazy Susan.