Mr. Moon: Niles, good news. Our feet are the same size.
Daphne: Daddy! I knew you'd come.
Mr. Moon: Hello, Stilts. Ah, give your old dad a kiss.
Daphne: Mum, look who's here, all the way from England!
Mr. Moon: Hello, Gert.
Gertrude: "Hello, Gert"? That's all you have to say for yourself? For forty years I've been a good wife to you, raising your children and boiling your meals, and letting you work off your animal lusts, and all I get for my trouble is a cheery "Hello, Gert"? Well, your fatal charm is not going to work this time, so you can just drag your sorry arse back to that barstool it normally sags over and leave me the hell alone! [cheerily] Thank you, Niles, that was a nice surprise.
Mr. Moon: You're right. She has mellowed.

Henri: We have some magnificent specials this evening.
Gertrude: Just so you know, Henry, I won't eat frogs, snails, slugs or eels. And don't try slippin' 'em under the
sauce. I'm on to you people.
Henri: I shall repeat this to the chef and I'm sure some other delightful surprise will find its way onto your plate.

Mr. Moon: You're Martin Crane's problem now.
Gertrude: What?
Mr. Moon: Did you think I wouldn't find out about your little fancy man? He says he can't stop thinking about ya!
Gertrude: Well, that's because he knows a good thing when he sees it!
Mr. Moon: He can't see anything!

James: That'll be $32.03.
Gertrude: For one drink?
James: Your grandson ordered a bunch of cakes, and he said it was all on you.
Jason: Thanks for the treats, Grandma!
Gertrude: Hey!

Daphne: Mum, we're off to the symphony.
Gertrude: Haven't the Germans punished us enough?

Niles: Oh, Daphne, it's okay. Her bracing honesty reminds me that I'm alive. You... you... oh, you! [Niles hugs Gertrude tightly] You are a treasure to me. I cherish every day we're together.
Gertrude: Oh, thank you, Niles. There may be others around here who could benefit from a near-death experience.

Gertrude: Oh, what's all this?
Daphne: Food for the poor.
Gertrude: Oh, it must be nice to be poor and have people just giving you food.

Gertrude: Daphne, you were up awfully late last night.
Daphne: Yeah, I was watching television.
Gertrude: Were you? Or was that husband of yours sneaking upstairs to demand you perform your wifely chore?
Daphne: I wish. He's still not ready to be in the same bed with me.
Gertrude: He's rich, and you don't have to sleep with him. Rub it in, why don't you?

Mike Shaw: Is there anything worse than making phony conversation with phony art lovers?
Gertrude: Yes. Living with one. My son-in-law is the host. And if you didn't want yer bum kissed, you shouldn't have come, that's all they do here.
Mike Shaw: I wasn't gonna come, but my gallery insisted.
Gertrude: Oh, well, I am going to be upstairs watching a boxing match... should you feel the need to get away.
Mike Shaw: Well, I probably shouldn't, but maybe just the first round.
Gertrude: All right, then.
Mike Shaw: You wouldn't have anything to drink up there, would ya?
Gertrude: Just liquor.

Niles: We tried to teach ourselves last night.
Frasier: Oh, can you imagine a sadder tableaux: two grown men trying to gain mastery over a child's toy and failing miserably.
Niles: Even more pathetic, a grown man faking the theft of his and his wife's bicycles. I disgust myself. I'm so sorry, Daphne.
Daphne: Niles, you've no need to apologize. Lots of people don't know how to ride.
Niles: Really?
Gertrude: No.