Niles: [storming in] You unprincipled charlatan! You unconscionable fraud! Happy Birthday, Dad.
Martin: Thanks.
Frasier: Niles, what are you talking about?
Niles: You spoke to a patient of mine today, Caroline. As a result of your fast-food approach to psychiatry, she left me.
Frasier: Caroline was your patient?
Niles: Two years of my hard work wiped out by one of your two-minute McSessions.
Frasier: Niles, I merely suggested that she consider a change.
Niles: Based on what diagnostic method? One potato, two potato?

Roz: Meanwhile someone's probably looting my apartment.
Niles: Yes. I hear there's a thriving black market in badly-designed Formica coffee tables.
Roz: At least I have my own sense of style. You won't even buy a chair unless some fey French aristocrat has sat his fat satin fanny in it.
Niles: Louis XIV was not fey! Everyone wore garters in the eighteenth century.

Frasier: A little offering from one of your suitors perhaps? A nice string of pearls? A teardrop pendant?
Roz: [emotionally] It's a brick of cheese!
Frasier: Well, on the right chain I can see that looking smart.
Roz: It's from my family. They're in Wisconsin at my Uncle's dairy farm having a family reunion.
Frasier: Oh, why didn't you go, Roz?
Roz: There wasn't time. But now I wish I'd gone. Frasier, we always have so much fun. Like this one time there was this huge cheese platter and one of my uncles started speaking in cheese language. You know, like instead of saying, "Hello, how are you?" he'd say, "Hello, Havarti." Someone else would go "Oh, I'm Gouda." Oh I don't know, what would come after that?
Frasier: Well, if I'd been there, the sound of a gunshot.