Martin: Frasier, Maureen and I are here on a date.
[Frasier laughs, gestures to ask for a moment, then takes Martin's drink and downs it.]
Frasier: I know you might think this is one of those wildly embarrassing moments where I'm standing here with egg on my face. I assure you, I'm not as embarrassed as you might assume I would be embarrassed. I'm not
uncomfortable, so please, don't you be uncomfortable either.
[Frasier walks around and downs Maureen's drink]

Frasier: Forty-three is off to a rousing start. Remember that policewoman I was interested in?
Roz: Yeah?
Frasier: Well, she's dating my father!
Roz: Your father? Well, never mind that. I know just what will take your mind off of it. I've got something really funny in my booth.
Frasier: I spent the last hour wandering the streets, trying to take assessment of my life. Do you know how long it's been since I've slept with a woman? Seven months!
Roz: Frasier.
Frasier: All right, nine months!
Roz: I really don't think we should talk about that right now!
[Roz closes the door, against the protests off the colleagues hiding in Roz's booth]
Frasier: Oh, sure, fine, you can't spare me five minutes to talk about my problems, when every day I drop what I'm doing to be your personal Wailing Wall. "Frasier, he stopped calling me." "Frasier, he wants his key back." "Frasier, his girlfriend is having me followed!"
Roz: I'm sorry. [Roz goes and opens the door again] So nine months, huh?
Frasier: Nine long, long, months. You know who that woman was?
Roz: Who?
Frasier: Edna, from Accounting. The next day, she dumped me. I tell you, Roz, I'm starting to feel nostalgic for that summer in my twenties when I was impotent. [Roz walks into her booth, Frasier follows] The only comfort I have now is knowing that my humiliation can't possibly get any worse!
All: Surprise!
Frasier: Hi, Edna.

Frasier: Well, it's not as if we were standing side-by-side when she chose you. I was at the bar. If you'd gone to get the drinks, things would have been different.
Martin: I don't think so.
Frasier: Dad, I'm drowning here. Please, throw me a line.

Roz: Faster, Frasier, faster! You can make this light!
Frasier: God, you're going to get us killed!
Roz: I can't be late for this date!
Frasier: Oh, this is ridiculous! First the dry cleaner, then the ATM, now you're making me cart you off to some restaurant.
Roz: Well, I'm sorry, I didn't plan for my car to be in the shop. But I really, really appreciate it, Frasier. [starts to unbutton her shirt]
Frasier: Oh, a basket of fruit would suffice.
Roz: I am changing for my date. Don't look at me. Turn around. Turn all the way around.
Frasier: I'm driving.
Roz: Fine! [climbs into the backseat] Hand me my jeans, will you?
Frasier: Here. [hands them to her, then checks the rear-view mirror] Oh, oh, great. This is just what I need. There's a police car behind us. Please don't turn on the red light. Don't turn on the red light. Don't turn
on the— [siren]

Frasier: Roz, if you could delay ablutions? I'm in custody here!
Maureen: Hey, it's your birthday today. Is this a little celebration?
Frasier: No, no. I'm taking my producer to meet her date.
Roz: Frasier, why didn't you tell me it was your birthday? I'd have thrown you a party at the station!
Frasier: Question asked, question answered.

Frasier: I'm just going to be dropping Roz off, then have a cold plate of deli, and get to bed early. Almost makes you feel sorry for me, doesn't it?
Maureen: I spent my last birthday subduing a drunk-and-disorderly at a sleazy bar.
Frasier: Don't you hate to work on your birthday?
Maureen: He was my date.

Maureen: Tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going to let you off. Just think of this as a little birthday gift from me.
Frasier: Thank you.
Maureen: But slow down. I'd hate to see you get hurt.
Frasier: I'm listening.

Martin: Come on, son, blow out the candles!
Frasier: Oh, what a surprise. Look, they're lighting again! What sorcerer's magic is this?

Frasier: I'm telling you, there was something there, though. Well, of course the whole conversation's academic.
I don't even know her name. I suppose I could call down to the police station and try to find out who was on traffic duty. But, uh, I don't suppose they'd give that sort of information to a civilian. You'd have to have some...
conduit to the police department. An insider who could break that damnable code of silence.
Martin: All right, I'll make the damn call.
Frasier: You, Dad? Why, I didn't even think of-
Martin: Oh, shut up.

Frasier: You know, I haven't felt such an instant attraction to a woman in quite some time. Well, considering the difference in our backgrounds, it's really rather puzzling.
Niles: Oh, pish-tosh! It's painfully obvious what's attracting you, the gleam of her jackboots, her dangling nightstick, the glint of her handcuffs hanging on her leather belt. You're off on some lurid little disciplinary fantasy.
Daphne: Oh, Dr. Crane, shame on you. You got icing up and down your sleeve.
Niles: Oh. I am a naughty boy.
Daphne: Well, certainly a messy one.
Niles: But mainly a naughty one.