Norm: Evening, everybody.
Everybody: Norm!
Cliff: Hey, so what's going down, Norm?
Norm: My blood-alcohol level. Suds, do your work. [Frasier laughs] Frasier's here?
Frasier: Hey Norm, how ya doing?

Niles: Oh, that sounds fascinating. Let me know when we're leaving.
Frasier: Right.
Niles: [to Daphne] We're never going to get out of here in half an hour, why don't you and I just go?
Daphne: Niles, don't be rude. These are your brother's friends, just try and loosen up.
Cliff: [to Niles] Hey, that's quite a suit you got there, buddy boy. It what, cost over a hundred I bet, huh? Hey, Paul, Paul, here, feel this suit.
Phil: I'm next after Paul.
Cliff: Yeah, get in here, Phil.

Frasier: Oh, say, Cliff, where's your mom?
Cliff: Ah, Ma got on the wrong plane. She went to Bosnia.

Cliff: Everyone, attention. Mr. Twitchell has got something to say here.
Mr. Twitchell: I'd like to propose a toast to Cliff Clavin. We were often adversaries, but he was a postman and I'll say this about him. He never developed a stoop. Mostly because he threw the big catalogs into the river. And even though he didn't strictly abide by the rules, especially 367 B Section 17...
[The mailmen laugh]
Mr. Twitchell: Well, anyway, when all is said and done you have to ask what will the mail be without Cliff Clavin?
Everybody: On time.

Frasier: Well, Cliff, you know it's entirely possible that your friends are suffering from a kind of separation anxiety. They may find it difficult to admit to themselves that you are actually leaving. You know, I could have a little talk with them if you'd like.
Cliff: Huh, what kind of hollow victory would that be? ... So, if I took a walk around the block would that give you enough time?
Frasier: Sure.

Frasier: Oh, I love returning to Boston. There's just something in the air.
Niles: Perhaps the toxic gas spewing from your gigantic mouth.
Frasier: Oh, Niles, please, will you just let it go? I didn't mention your name.
Niles: Oh, no, you just said it was someone with whom you shared a bunk bed who is now a psychiatrist. I'd say that narrows the field down to... hmm, me!
Frasier: But only to someone who knows that you're my brother. And who would that be?
Niles: My patients.
Martin: The guys at work.
Daphne: One of the flight attendants.
Niles: What? Oh, so that's why she looked at me that way when I told her I spilled my drink.

Cliff: You know what, I can't believe you brought your entire family here for my retirement party.
Frasier: Well, actually...
Cliff: You know, when I didn't get your RS-s'il-vous-plaît, I figured you weren't gonna show up. But you son of a gun, you wanted to surprise me, didn't you?
Frasier: Well, yes. Surprise!

Norm: Listen, uh, Cliffy. Vera would have been here, so I didn't tell her about it.
Frasier: Yes, Vera is Norm's much storied wife.

Martin: The best thing is, on a summer's day, you open a cold one, and that foam runs down your hand and for a split second there, you're jealous of your own knuckles.
Norm: Oh, yeah. I had no idea that you were a poet. Yeah, tell me the one about the bacon again.
Martin: Which one?
Norm: All of 'em.

Frasier: Cliff? Are you all right?
Cliff: Oh, yeah. Yeah, it's just I gotta - Whoo! - take a break from all that partying. [Frasier doesn't look convinced] All right, you pried it out of me. My so called friends, they don't care about me.
Frasier: Sure they do.
Cliff: Ah, your toast in there brought home the ugly truth. When you left, everybody asked you to stay. I told these bullocks six months ago I was retiring. And not one single one of 'em has said anything like "I'm sure gonna miss you there, Big Shooter." or "Gee, I wish you could stick around, Big Shooter."
Frasier: "Big Shooter"?
Cliff: Yeah, it's a nickname I once gave myself.