Daphne: [answering the phone] Hello? Yes, who's calling please? Wiwif? Anybody here know a Wiwif?
Frasier: ... Oh, Lilith!

Frasier: I've got something I've gotta talk to you about. For the next couple of days, you're going to hear some rather nasty stories and some snide jokes about your old man.
Freddie: Mom's coming?
Frasier: No, no she's not.

Frasier: Would you please call Dad and get him down here?
Niles: All right. [on the phone] Yeah, Dad? Hi, my credit card was declined. Well, we need yours. Yeah. Well, right. Yeah, I'll see you soon.
Frasier: Oh, God, this is intolerable. Now it'll take him twenty minutes to get here.
Niles: No, he's waiting in the car.
Frasier: What? Why didn't he come in?
Niles: Frasier, this was his old precinct. When we pulled up outside, I saw a look on his face I haven't seen since he drove us home from our first and only little league game.

Frasier: Oh, will this nightmare never end? Now, listen Dad, we're bound to get a lot of calls about this thing. Please do not answer the phone, don't talk to anybody, just let the machine get it. You don't want to give them anything they can turn into something tawdry...
[as they enter the apartment, Daphne is on the phone:]
Daphne: Yeah, I live with Dr. Crane. Yeah, there's quite a bit of massage involved.
Frasier: Daphne!
Daphne: Mostly around the hips, thighs and buttocks.
Frasier: God! Give me that! [grabbing the phone] No comment!

[Martin walks in on Niles dipping balloons in a glass of water before shaking them off]
Martin: Should I even ask?
Niles: These balloons come in an unsealed package, covered with some mysterious dust, straight from some southeast Asian sweatshop. Doesn't that worry you?
Martin: Oh, you bet it does. I remember back in Korea, we'd crouch in our foxholes, scared to death those bastards were gonna drop balloons on us.

Frasier: I must say, my belief in people's basic decency has taken a beating today. You know, earlier I returned a man's wallet, he accused me of stealing.
Martin: Well, it just proves what I always say, a good Samaritan is nothing but a good target.
Frasier: Well, I'm sorry, Dad. I'm not ready to be quite that cynical yet.
Daphne: He's off the phone.
Martin: Oh, good. All right. Well, you can believe what you want, but I think people are born rotten, and every year they get worse. Happy birthday to you...

Man: Hey. Hey, is that my wallet you got there?
Frasier: Is it? I just found it on the floor over there, I was just about to leave it at the counter. Please, no reward.
Man: What happened to my cash?
Frasier: Well, I don't know. It was empty when I found it.
Man: Yeah, right. I had seven bucks in here.
Frasier: Well I'm sure some lucky thief is off enjoying a matinee and a small soda.

Bulldog: Hey, guys, I'm glad you're here. I need to talk to you about something.
Frasier: What can I do for you, Bulldog?
Bulldog: My mom's having bypass surgery tomorrow morning, and I'd like to sit up with her tonight at the hospital. But I gotta work the 11-1 spot. I don't suppose you could...
Roz: Oh, right. Like we don't know there's a big fight in Vegas tonight.
Bulldog: Look, I know I've jerked you guys around before, but this is serious.
Frasier: Bulldog, I'm sorry. Frederick's coming in tonight, it's his birthday.
Bulldog: Okay, Doc. Never mind, I understand. [on the phone] Hello, Bernice Briscoe's room, please. I hope my mom's around to celebrate her next birthday. Hi, Mom. It's Bobby. Um, look, I'm gonna have to work tonight after all...
Frasier: Bulldog, wait a minute. You know what? Frederick will probably be asleep by eleven, I guess we could take your spot.
Roz: Are you insane? How can you be so gullible? He is not talking to his mother. [on Bulldog's phone:] Does somebody have a boo-boo on her heart? Is someone gonna have to open you up with those big old rib spreaders? ... Oh, Mrs. Briscoe, I'm so sorry. Listen, I just wanted you to know that we'll fill in for Bobby tonight.

[Martin and Niles show Frasier the birthday cake for Freddie]
Frasier: What the hell is that?
Niles: It's Louis Pasteur, Freddie's favorite scientist.
Frasier: What child wouldn't be thrilled with a coconut death mask on his birthday?

Martin: Frasier, what happened to your jacket?
Frasier: Oh, at the airport, I helped this woman get a dog into her car.
Niles: Oh, I hope at least it was in a crate.
Frasier: Yes, a very heavy crate. I had to hold it at arm's length so that what I chose to believe was drool wouldn't run out onto my shoes. Eight blocks later, I finally load little Fido into her backseat and the woman drives off without so much as a "Thank you" or an offer to give me a ride back to the airport. Well, I responded with the time-honored gesture of disapproval, but on the upswing I caught my finger on the jacket.