Roz: Hasn't he found a place yet?
Frasier: No, no. He's sublet his apartment at the Montana. He has to find something furnished. There just aren't many out there. Still, he's looking every day.
Roz: Not yesterday.
Frasier: What do you mean?
Roz: I saw him outside the Varsity waiting in line for "Lawrence Of Arabia."
Frasier: Well, that's impossible, he told me he had appointments all day.
Roz: Frasier, I know Niles when I see him. How often do people go to the movies with their own seat cushion?

Roz: Is he okay?
Frasier: It's just a panic attack. It's happened before, but he's never been quite this close to butterfly-net territory.
Frasier: [to James] May I have your apron, please? [to the waitress] And, and yours? All right, Niles. I'm going to wrap you up like a big, green Christmas present. You like Christmas, don't you? There we are.
Roz: Okay, listen up! Me and my friends are going to back out of here, nice and easy. As far as any of you are concerned, this never happened. And if any of you decide to be a hero and call the police, trust me, I will find you!

Frasier: I didn't mean to disturb your reading.
Roz: Actually, I'm doing a little research. I have a meeting with a publisher tomorrow. I'm thinking of writing my own children's book.
Frasier: Really?
Roz: Yeah, it's a story my mom made up for me when I was a little kid. I tell it to Alice all the time now, and I thought it would be such a kick if I could get it published.
Frasier: Good for you, Roz. You know, I dabbled in juvenile fiction myself. Yes, Niles and I when we were boys wrote a series of stories together in which we were the heroes. Along the lines of a "Hardy Boys" or a "Nancy Drew".
Roz: "The Nancy Boys"?

Roz: Oh, Niles.
James: I'm calling the cops.
Roz: The hell you are! This man's tips alone have probably paid for all the pot you'll ever smoke. Just back off, cowboy! And that goes for the rest of you, too.

Frasier: Roz, how can you say that? My God, this was not an old man, he was my age.
Roz: What am I supposed to say? I guess I don't think of these things like you do. Maybe it's because you're forty-one and I'm [laughs] not.
Frasier: Don't you ever think about you're own mortality? Don't you ever think about dying?
Roz: Well, not me dying, but you know what I have thought about lately? I've been dating this older guy, and what if ... you know? We were in bed together and he dropped dead? Well, it's not out of the realm of possibility. Sometimes he starts breathing very funny and I don't know if he's having a good time or if I've overexcited him to some dangerous level.
Frasier: Someone certainly has a very high opinion of herself.
Roz: Everybody's good at something.
Frasier: Why is it that every time we try to have a serious discussion, we end up talking about your sex life?
Roz: Because I have one.

Frasier: You know Roz, I would have thought that the gentleman over there with the flannel shirt would have been more your type.
Roz: Him? Not a chance. See the way he's slurping his orange juice? Sloppy kisser! You can tell right away the guy's no good in bed. He's so cautious. Look at the way he's blowing on his coffee.
[Frasier and Roz turn to Niles who is blowing on his coffee]
Niles: I wasn't trying to cool it. I was simply blowing a foam hole.
Roz: You don't even wrinkle the sheets, do you?

Niles: So, that's a nice jacket.
Roz: Thank you.
Niles: Offbeat.
Roz: And what is that supposed to mean, "offbeat"?
Niles: Well...
Roz: No, wait, I think I know exactly what it means. Offbeat as in cheap. Well, excuse me for not being rich enough to shop at the International House of Tight-Ass like you and Maris the heiress! That is what you meant, right?
Niles: Yes, but I had no idea you'd pick up on it.
Roz: Then you were insulting me.
Niles: Yes, but you got in a couple of good shots yourself.
Roz: I did, didn't I? I'm so glad we did this.
[Frasier returning to see Niles and Roz shake hands]
Frasier: You know, sometimes I am such a good therapist, I scare myself.

Frasier: You know, Roz, maybe they're right. I mean, look at what this woman has reduced me to already. Trading barbs, yelling over the air. Now I'm spreading rumors about her? Is that anyway for a psychiatrist to deal with conflict?
Roz: Don't you wimp out on me!
Frasier: Now, Roz, just think about it. There may be a better way. You know, Dr. Nora is clearly a damaged and angry woman. Maybe I could find out what's at the root of that anger, and help her, also proving that my method of therapy is the more valid one.
Roz: Why are you doing this to me? Look, if you have a tumor—
Frasier: Roz, stop it!

Frasier: Roz, it is a wonderful day. You know, I think the entire city of Seattle is convinced it's springtime. I was
walking down the street, I passed a pet store, and in the window I could see two snakes doing a mating dance.
Roz: If you ask me, celebrating a dance that brings more snakes into the world is like toasting a law school graduation.

Bebe: Isn't it wonderful? We met last month and it was love at first sight.
Roz: First sight of what? His bankbook and a cardiogram?