Niles: I know you'd like to believe we're still the same devilish sprigs we always were. Sitting on mother's davenport in our tweeds and tans, listening to the Texaco symphonic hour. The cold-hearted reality is, you're middle-aged.
Frasier: Niles, I'm forty-one. That's hardly middle-aged. Middle age is more like fifty, fifty-five.
Niles: Only if you live to be one hundred and ten.