Frasier: Let me guess, Maris has moved into the east wing again?
Niles: Sunday was her fortieth birthday. She said in no uncertain terms she wanted no acknowledgement of it whatsoever, and in a moment I live over and over in my dreams, I believed her.
Frasier: What, no gifts? No party? No nothing?
Niles: Say that weeping into an ermine lap robe and you've got her down perfectly.