Niles: [on the phone] Hello? Ah, Winchett, so looking forward to seeing you at the party. Oh, how dreadful. Oh, you poor thing. No, no, of course I understand. The important thing is that you get better. You are a dear for calling... [hanging up] You lying, two-faced cow.
Frasier: So she's not really sick?
Niles: Oh, hardly. Maris is luring away all my confirmed guests. Suddenly there are accidents, deaths in the family... A wave of misfortune is sweeping through society's blue bloods at a rate unprecedented since the French Revolution.

Niles: Maris has chosen the exact same night to throw a party of her own.
Frasier: Well, couldn't you ask her to postpone?
Niles: I tried. She's already flown in a sculptor from Sweden to capture her likeness in ice.
Frasier: Ah, the perfect marriage of subject and medium.

Greg: "...and lately I've had the chronic fluctuating mood disturbances which would indicate cyclothymic disorder. I mean, the hypomanic symptoms are there and yet I'm experiencing moments of aphasia and apraxia and I just want to pull my teeth out, Dr. Crane. What do you think?"
Frasier: Well, Greg, two possible diagnoses come to mind. Either you are seriously mentally ill and you should be institutionalized immediately, or you are a first-year psychology student.
Greg: "Oh yeah, yeah, I'm at UW."
Frasier: Yes, well, it's not uncommon for students to feel that they're manifesting symptoms that they are studying. It'll pass.
Greg: "What do I do till it passes?"
Frasier: Well, just relax. Though it might be a good idea to postpone reading about male sexual disorder until after spring break.

Niles: Well, Maris has finally deigned to call me back after I'd left no fewer than twenty messages.
Frasier: Honestly, Niles, by calling her so many times you give her all the power. You're much better off coming from a position of strength!
Niles: Don't pour that sherry on your shirt, it will stain.
Frasier: What?
Niles: I'm sorry, I thought this was the portion of the afternoon where we gave each other patently obvious advice.

Niles: Well, you can see my problem. We're going to be competing now for which friends go to which party.
Frasier: You know Niles, for a separated couple still hoping to reconcile I'm afraid you're going down a path-
Niles: You shouldn't wear that tie with that jacket.
Frasier: Oh, I see. Is that your clever way of telling me I'm dispensing unwanted criticism?
Niles: That too.

Frasier: Wine list? My God, he ought to bring us blindfolds. I mean, what is he thinking with this artwork? It's appalling.
Niles: Who is it who said that art in restaurants is on the same level with food in museums?
Frasier: The little white lies one will tell for a good table. Of course I would compliment a black velvet Elvis right now if Chef Wakim's lobster comfit were at stake.

Niles: Frasier, that's Winchett Cook. She's one of the guests Maris and I are competing over for our parties. I'm going to go woo her.
Frasier: Oh really, Niles. Why don't you just reschedule your party?
Niles: Because I don't want to give Maris the satisfaction. She's pushed me around long enough.
Frasier: All right.
Niles: Metaphorically, of course. In reality she can hardly push at all. Hence, that terrible afternoon last spring she spent trapped in the revolving doors at Bergdorf's.

Martin: Hey Daph, come here. Take a look at this.
Daphne: Well, I'm very impressed, Mr. Crane. When did you have the time to do that?
Martin: Oh, sure. Like I could paint something like this. You know, I was thinking, maybe, we could put it over the fireplace.
Frasier: Yes, yes, the fireplace. That's the first place I thought of too.

Roz: Frasier, have I ever told you about my ceramic hippo collection?
Frasier: Oh yes, many times.
Roz: The hell I have. Shut up and listen. One Christmas my Grandma sent me a ceramic hippo.
Frasier: Roz, a hippo cannot possibly be as repellent as a rabid matador killing an epileptic bull.
Roz: Was the bull wearing a pork-pie hat and fishing off a dock?
Frasier: Continue.
Roz: Okay. I made the mistake of telling her how much I loved it. Well, that just opened the floodgates. I got ice-skating hippos and hula-hooping hippos. Thank God for that earthquake.
Frasier: Oh, you mean they broke?
Roz: Well, I assume they did when they hit the bottom of the garbage chute. But I blamed it on the earthquake, and the point is, you need to talk to your father now and be honest with him or you're gonna be stuck with that thing until the next natural disaster.

Frasier: Oh, you're right, Roz. Guess I'll just have to tell him this afternoon. Oh, Roz, that crystal vase I gave you three years ago for Christmas. Er, you said that was broken in the earthquake?
Roz: Oh, no, no, that really was. I was very disappointed. As disappointed as you were when Eddie chewed up that sweater I gave you for Christmas.
Frasier: This year, liquor?
Roz: Deal.