Frasier: Now, Dad, I think we can sit down and play a nice cordial little game. For centuries, people have
set aside their differences to play a game of chess. So, who should go first?
Martin: Well, let's see. It's usually the person who lost the last game. Now, who could that be?
Frasier: OK. No more Mr. Cordial Guy.

Martin: By the way, I'm sorry the ratings for your show took a dive last month.
Frasier: Don't try to pull your cheap psychological tricks on me. Oh, did I mention. The cemetery called? Apparently they have to dig a sewer next to your plot.

Frasier: Getting your dog to stare at me only proves how desperate you are.
Martin: I didn't tell him to do that. He just gets fascinated when he sees people sweat.
Frasier: I sweat when I'm happy.
Martin: Well, then you must be ecstatic.

Martin: Hey, I didn't gloat when I beat you all those times.
Frasier: No, but, I bet you wish you did now, huh? Ha-ha, it feels great.

Frasier: Dad? Dad?
Martin: Oh, jeez...
Frasier: No, no, please, just one question: did you let me win?
Martin: Oh, for crying out loud, Frasier.
Frasier: No, no, please. Please. Did you play your best?
Martin: For five thousand bucks? What do you think?
Frasier: You wouldn't just be saying that?
Martin: On your mother's grave, may lightning strike me down, I, Martin Crane, swear on the holiest of Bibles, you won, I lost, fair and square, cross my heart and hope to go to sleep.
Frasier: Thank you, Dad.
Martin: You're welcome.
[Frasier closes the door. A moment later:]
Frasier: I'm sorry I beat you, Dad.

Roz: What are you talking about?
Frasier: My father beat me at chess last night, and I've just realized it was sheer dumb luck. He stumbled into the Panov-Botvinnik attack!
Roz: Frasier, I-
Frasier: Oh Roz, I can't tell you what a relief this is. My God, my whole world makes sense again.
Roz: Frasier, you are forgetting about my problem with Noge.
Frasier: Yes, and it'd be a lot easier if you'd stop bringing it up.