Niles: You free for lunch today?
Frasier: Oh, sadly, no. The radio station is subjecting my program to something they call a "focus group" this afternoon. Dinner, perhaps?
Niles: Oh, perfect. And what exactly is a focus group?
Frasier: Well, they actually drag a pack of people off the street and make them listen to my program, and then dutifully record their opinions about it.
Niles: How demeaning!
Frasier: Oh, absolutely. Can you imagine Sigmund Freud being dragged into a room full of Viennese laymen to hear remarks like, "Hate that Oedipal thing, but, oh, love the penis envy." I mean, really. The worst thing is that they may change my show in deference to the opinion of Joe Six-Pack!

Frasier: Uh, may I? I know there's nothing I can say right now that would make you feel any better, but rest assured, I will be financially responsible for everything.
Manu: All this because you had to know why I do not like you.
Frasier: Well, you were kind of vague.
Manu: You want to know why? I'll tell you why. I think you are a smarty-pants. I was too polite to say that before. But then you spied on me, you stalked me, you badgered me, you poured Yoo-Hoo down my Dockers, you crunched my hand, and then, as if all that was not enough, you burned down my newsstand, my livelihood, a gift to me from my beloved uncle, may he rest in peace!
Frasier: Was that so hard?

Martin: What is it about you? Everybody has to love you. You know, it's like when you were in that play in high school. You get standing ovations every night, all your friends say you're great, you got one lousy review in the school paper and you sulked for a week.
Frasier: Well, you know, Dad, I'd like to think I've matured a bit since then. But, you know, you would have sulked too, if you'd read in the paper, "Mr. Crane's attempts to gyrate his hips as Conrad, the teen idol in 'Bye-Bye, Birdie,' made this reviewer say, 'Bye-bye, breakfast!'"
Niles: That review was a mash note compared to my first draft.