Frasier: So I decided it was time I got to know some of my colleagues in the media.
Niles: But a convention? You've never shown any interest before.
Frasier: They've never held one in Aspen before.
Niles: Just think: hundreds of radio psychiatrists all in the same location. One well-timed avalanche and the dignity of the entire psychiatric profession could be restored.

Frasier: Very well. You leave me no alternative but to call in my marker.
Niles: What marker?
Frasier: Oh, I think you know.
Niles: You wouldn't.
Frasier: I would.
Niles: You can't!
Frasier: I will.
Niles: That was three years ago.
Frasier: I don't recall there being any statute of limitations. I distinctly recall that when you asked me to go out with Maris's sister, you said that you would owe me one forever.
Niles: But you only spent one evening with Brie. That hardly compares with what you're asking me to endure.
Frasier: Oh? Shall I refresh your memory? Midway through the opera her ermine muff began to tremble. As it turned out, she had used it to smuggle in her adorably incontinent Chihuahua. Just as I thought we'd reached the low point of the evening I suddenly felt a sandpaper tongue licking my earlobe. Alas, it did not belong to little Hervé! Fortunately my shriek coincided with the on-stage murder of Gondolfo.

Roz: I bet you're feeling pretty good about yourself?
Niles: Suddenly I'm being revered as a god by the same troglodytes who, in junior high school, tried to pack me into my own briefcase. It's glorious.
Roz: Oh, I almost forgot the best part. Reggie sent these tickets for tonight's game over.
Niles: Oh. Well, I suppose I can't disappoint my new fans. Tell me, does one still wear a white sweater jauntily tied around the neck to these things?
Roz: If one wants to get the crap beaten out of one.

Frasier: Oh, good one. I can always count on you for some witty retort.
Niles: Mmm. I insult you and you compliment me. Could the request for a favor be far behind?
Frasier: Damn, you are perceptive.
Niles: Oh, stop it.

Frasier: Oh, all right. Listen, Niles, I'd like you to do my show for me for the week I'm gone.
Niles: Me standing in for you? I'm sorry, Frasier. I couldn't presume to fill those big floppy red shoes of yours.

Frasier: Please. Please, Niles. Look, I'm begging you. The station wants to replace me with Helen Grogan, better known as Ma' Nature. She does a gardening show. And I'm just a little worried that a week of discussing well-rotted manure will weaken my listener base.
Niles: It hasn't yet.

Frasier: Roz will expect you on Monday at two.
Niles: For your information, Brie had a very tough row to hoe growing up. It's not easy going through life with one nostril.
Frasier: Did I mention she had a cold that night?
Niles: Monday at two it is.

Linda: "So you can talk to him? Good. I'm putting him on the line right now. Go ahead!"
Niles: All right. Murray, you're dealing with your problem in a very self-destructive manner. It won't be solved by refusing to eat. Do you hear me?
[After a brief silence, a cat can be heard meowing]
Linda: "Oh my God, it's working. He's eating! Dr. Crane, what did you say to him?"
Niles: Well, I'd like to tell you but that would violate doctor-cat confidentiality.

Bulldog: I'd introduce you to this guy but he doesn't know squat about sports.
Niles: On the contrary. In prep school I was an ardent sportsman. Until an inflamed instep forced me to resign from the croquet club. [silence] I'll see myself out.

Niles: We'll start with a positive visualization. I want you to close your eyes. Take a deep breath. Good. I want you to imagine yourself on the playing surface doing whatever it is you actually do. Tell me what you see.
Reggie: Okay. Kemp's passing me the ball. I'm bringing it up court. I'm dribbling.
Niles: Don't worry about your appearance.