Frasier: Dad, I'm sorry, if Frederick's anything like me, the kind of toys he'll like to play with are... A kitchen set, a dollhouse and three kinds of Barbies. Oh, good God. This is for a Franklin Crane from Kennebunkport. Oh, God, do you realize what this means?
Niles: Yes. The Cranes of Maine have got your Living Brain.

Bulldog: [indicating the mistletoe hanging from his hat] Hey, Roz. You know what's over my head?
Roz: Almost any clever remark?
Bulldog: What'd she mean by that?

Frasier: I see you've been busy in the kitchen.
Daphne: Yeah. I'm bringing Grammy Moon's famous plum duff. It's a still flour pudding boiled in a cloth bag.
Martin: Who gets to lick the bag?
Daphne: No. You see, Grammy Moon had a secret ingredient. She'd soak it for hours in rum, then ignite it in a blinding flash. As soon as she came out of the kitchen with no eyebrows, we knew dessert was ready. You know, to this day the smell of burning hair puts me in the holiday spirit.

Frasier: Maris has cancelled your credit card.
Roz: Whoa, Merry Christmas.
Waitress: Would you care to use a different one?
Niles: There's no point. They're all in her name. I'm calling her right now and demanding the restoration of my credit card. And my bank accounts. ... And my phone service.

Niles: Well, I've got my own reasons to celebrate. Maris and I may be together again, by the new year.
Frasier: Oh, really Niles?
Niles: Yep, yeah. I called this morning to arrange the delivery of her Christmas gifts, and she said the only gift she'd accept from me was an abject apology.
Frasier: Going to cave into her, aren't you?
Niles: Au contraire. I told her I was not about to apologize, and from that point on, the respect in her voice came through loud and clear. No small feat, considering at the time she was speaking at the time through the hole in her massage table.

Frasier: Here's three hundred dollars. Would you- Would you accept a personal check for the rest?
Man: Hey, it's Christmas.
Frasier: Oh, bless you. Bless you so much. Very well. Thank you. Niles, give the man a check.

Niles: And then when Dad took us to a game, you spent the whole time looking for rodent hairs in your hot-dog.

Martin: Well, I don't care what you think. It's not for you, it's for Frederick.
Frasier: God, I suppose you're right, Dad. I used to love this stuff when I was six. By the time I was seven I started to have questions. When I was eight I started spending a lot more time at the Bernsteins.

Frasier: Let's see, I'll just have to remember what I ordered from the catalog and look for that. First, the "Living Brain."
Kid: Living Brain? What kind of dork wants that?
Frasier: With any luck, the kind of dork who'll be operating on your prostate someday.

Roz: This last-minute Christmas shopping is killing me. I never know what to give the men in my life.
Frasier: Since when?