[In Frasier's dream. He wakes up in bed, hears somebody emerging from the shower]
Frasier: Mom? Mommy?
Gil: Patience, Daddy!

Gil: Hey, Frasier!
Frasier: Hello, Gil.
Gil: I heard you coughing on the air earlier today. Sounds like you might be coming down with something. So I had this sent over from Rosenthal's Deli. Chicken soup, so lovingly prepared even the chicken gets well.

Frasier: Look, she's bending over. Oh turn around, Bulldog.
Gil: Oh, yes. Isn't that what golfers refer to as "teeing it up?"
Frasier: All right, he moves in. And he ... helps pick up the papers!
Gil: Oh, I'm so sorry, Frasier. I too entertained hopes for low comedy.

Gil: Oh, uh, Skippy? Change my order. I've got a sudden hankering for baby-back ribs and corn bread.

Gil: Good afternoon, Frasier.
Frasier: Gil.
Gil: A little birdie tells me I was featured in your midnight movie.
Frasier: That's very clever. Off you go.
Gil: Very well. See you tomorrow. Or should I say, "See you in your dreams"?

Frasier: Gil! At the bottom of page fourteen, listen, after you're shot just say "I'm dying," cut the rest.
Gil: That's my boyhood in Surrey speech.
Frasier: Yes, I know.
Gil: You can't cut that, you can't.
Frasier: Stop whining. We've got a play to do.
Gil: I don't care anymore.

Gil: Uh, excuse me, Niles. I'm afraid there's been a bit of an hors d'oeuvre mishap on your Persian rug. Just call me "Fumbles With Crab Puffs."

Roz: So, Gil, what'll you have? My treat?
Gil: I think I'll be happier at the losers' table with Aunt Penny, the story lady. Penny, don't put that flask away.

Frasier: Listen, Gil, I-I hope you don't mind my doing this segment.
Gil: Oh, perish the thought. I'm ecstatic. As ecstatic as you would be if someone hijacked the last fifteen minutes of your show.

Gil: Huzzah, Frasier. I'm sure everyone who was listening is hitting the bottle as we speak. Well, Lance and I are going for a boys' night out.
Lance: Lock up your daughters!