Martin: I still think you're making too big a deal out of this.
Niles: Dad, I have never seen Maris this angry. I swear, her eye was twitching like a frog in a science experiment.
Martin: Well, when your mother got mad at me, I'd just grab her, bend her backwards, and give her a kiss which made her glad she was a woman.
Niles: I can't do that with Maris. She has abnormally rigid vertebrae, she'd snap like a twig.

Martin: Oh, why don't you just get her a nice bottle of perfume?
Niles: She gets hives.
Martin: How about candy?
Niles: Hypoglycemic.
Martin: Just get her a dozen roses.
Niles: Allergic.

Niles: Dad, as usual, your simple homespun wisdom has pricked the balloon of Frasier's pomposity.

Martin: What happened to that Louis the French guy birthday party?
Niles: Disaster there too! Maris reminded me that an entire branch of her family tree were slaughtered by the Huguenots.

[Frasier stands behind the bathroom door as Daphne disrobes and climbs into the shower. Eddie runs into the bathroom and starts drinking out of the toilet bowl]
Daphne: What are you doing? That's disgusting! You filthy thing. Get out of here right now! Get out!
Frasier: Daphne, I'm so sorry!
[Daphne screams. Frasier runs away]

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.

Daphne: I suppose me problem goes back to growing up in a house full of boys. My brothers were all snoops. They never gave me a moment's peace. Oh, it was a filthy little rite of passage for the Moon boys. When I reached a certain age, they'd sneak into the bathroom and peek at me in the shower.
Frasier: Oh, dear God. All eight of them?
Daphne: Well, except for my brother Billy, the ballroom dancer. He never peeked at me. Though he did peek at my brother Nigel.

Frasier: I simply went in there to retrieve my book.
Martin: You're not supposed to go in there!
Frasier: Oh, what's the big deal?
Martin: Do you ever see her leave her door open? She doesn't like people going in there.
Frasier: She goes into my room all the time, and it doesn't bother me!
Martin: Women are different.
Frasier: Dad, that is sexism talking.
Martin: No, that's thirty-five years of marriage talking. Women protect their privacy. You know how they are about their handbags. You never go in there. It's always "bring me my purse." The husband could say, "Honey, I'm being robbed. The guy's holding a gun to my head and I don't have any money." The wife would say, "Bring me my purse."

Frasier: Listen, Dad, you didn't happen to find a book lying around here? The station manager loaned it to me and I promised I'd return it today.
Martin: What's it called?
Frasier: The Life And Times Of Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree. It's a stunningly witty history of the English theatre.
Martin: Oh, okay, you caught me, I got it hidden under my pillow.

Martin: What did you do?
Frasier: This morning, I went into her bedroom.
Niles: Frasier, how could you?! No matter how irresistible the urge to venture down that hallway, to press your face against that door, to actually feel the grain of the wood against your cheek. It must be fought. It must be fought!