Frasier: She's staying. Turns out they're sleeping together but not having sex. See, they can't have sex because of an injury Joe suffered when kicked by a spooked sheep during an air raid while his family was vacationing in the Falkland Islands during the war.

Frasier: Oh, Niles, why do you even care about those people? In your hour of need they pretend you don't even exist. They treat you like you're a leper, a non-person.
Niles: But I really, really like them. I know, I know. It makes me sound pathetic. But I'm newly separated. These people have been my social circle for ten years. Frasier, they're my tribe.
Frasier: Well, I hate to break this to you, "Waltzes With Snobs," but ... they have left you on the mountaintop to die.

Frasier: Guess who? Daphne, um, I don't want you entertaining here but I also don't want you to move out.
Daphne: Oh, I see. So you want me to stay, but just not have a personal life?
Frasier: Well...
Daphne: No, no, no. That works out fine for me. I'll just spend all day waiting on you and your father, then in the evenings retire to me room, wrap meself in an Afghan and wait for the morning. And if my whimpering gets too loud for you, you can just have me fixed like Eddie.

Frasier: Oh, Dad. This is a small thing but you left the sponge in the sink again.
Martin: So?
Frasier: Well, as I mentioned last evening, if it stays wet, not only does it begin to smell but it becomes a breeding ground for bacteria.
Martin: So?
Frasier: So, if I were to, say, wipe up that salsa that you spilled on the table just now, I would be leaving behind bacteria such as salmonella, listeria, flagella. Now wouldn't that bother you?
Martin: Yeah, I guess you're right. It would bother me. I wouldn't dream of touching that sponge now.
[Martin whistles. Eddie comes and licks the table clean.]
Frasier: Ah, yes. Our own foul-breathed, little handy-wipe.

Martin: You know, I swear you just go looking for trouble.
Frasier: Oh, that is so untrue. [Frasier emerges from the kitchen grasping a sponge with a pair of tongs] And perhaps you can explain this!
Martin: A grown man's obsession with a sponge? No, I can't.

Frasier: Hey, Dad. Is Daphne in?
Martin: Yeah, and if you have any sense you'll pretend that nothing happened this morning.
Frasier: Ah, yes. Denial. Just the sort of advice I'd expect from a man whose driver's license still lists his hair color as brown.
Martin: It was until you came back to town.

Niles: I wasn't invited.
Frasier: Niles, it's one party.
Niles: Yes, but when you're off the A-list for one party you're off for all of them. From now on I'll be relegated to B-list charity events, grubby little theatre companies and last year's diseases.
Frasier: This often happens in these cases when two people separate. Their friends choose one spouse over the other. I'm sure they just chose Maris because she's better connected and has more money than you do.
Niles: Exactly which part of that was meant to ease my pain?

Frasier: Daphne, uh, you can't go. You have to stay. I've only just recently realized how important you are
to us. See, if you go, Dad and I will kill each other. I'm not just tossing out hyperbole here. I'm speaking in the
most literal sense. Dad and I, both dead. Only he'll be lying there with a bacteria-ridden sponge protruding from his mouth like a bloated tongue. You don't really want that on your conscience, do you?

Daphne: Truth is, I do still think of this place as my home. But I know you'd never be comfortable knowing Joe and I were.
Frasier: I'd be willing to try.
Daphne: I know you better than that. It'll bother you and we'll both be miserable.
Frasier: Why can't I get past this? Oh, it'd just be easier if I could be like my father and pretend you weren't in here making love.
Daphne: Making love? Is that what you think we were doing?
Frasier: Yes, of course.
Daphne: Oh, no. There was nothing like that going on in here.
Frasier: Really? Seems rather implausible. Even if I'd like to believe that - and believe me I really do want to - uh, how can I?
Daphne: Well, how could Joe and I make love? What with, uh, Joe's war injury?
Frasier: Oh. I didn't even know Joe was a soldier. What war would that be?
Daphne: The Falkland Islands.
Frasier: But that was a British conflict and Joe's not...
Daphne: His parents have a summerhouse there.
Frasier: Oh, that's very unfortunate, taking a summerhouse in a war zone. But how-?
Daphne: He was kicked by a sheep.
Frasier: A sheep?
Daphne: Yes, a sheep, spooked by an air raid siren. Work with me.
Frasier: I see. All right, what you're saying is that Joe-
Daphne: Can't.
Frasier: Ah. Well, I suppose that changes everything.
Daphne: Yes, I suppose it does. But just so as we're clear - even though there's no actual lovemaking, Joe and I can on occasion, say, read poems to each other in here at night?
Frasier: As long as you don't read too loudly.

Martin: You know how an Oreo has that soft creamy filling between two hard cookies? That's what keeps them together.
Frasier: See your point, Dad.
Martin: Daphne's kind of the center.
Frasier: I'll go and talk to her.
Martin: Now, you and me, we'd be the cookie part.
Frasier: I get it!