Frasier: Brian, let me assure you that no one is a born scatterbrain. You simply have to develop your powers of concentration. On a trip to the Amazon, I was able to observe the hunters of the primitive Shipibo tribe. With nothing more than a crude blowgun, they can bring down small monkeys from the forest canopy high above their heads. How? Focus...
[Someone comes into Roz's booth and hands her a sheet of paper]
Frasier: ...and mental discipline and that's what we have to work on, Brian. Focus on one thing and not allow ourselves to be distracted by a single-
[Roz rushes in and lays the piece of paper on Frasier's console]
Frasier: We've been nominated for a SeaBea! Oh, of course we should never become so single-minded that we don't allow ourselves to be spontaneous.

Roz: This is so great. You know, last year I was so obsessed with winning that I didn't even enjoy being
nominated, but this year I don't care if we win or lose. I'm just gonna buy myself a beautiful dress and have my hair done and I'm gonna stretch out in the back of a limo with my date-
Frasier: And wonder why you bothered having your hair done.

Niles: Let's review. She started with calls to the station, then moved onto spying on you. Now she's been in your briefcase. It's the classic progression of the predator stalking its prey in ever-narrowing circles, or "loops". That's for you Daphne.
Daphne: Thank you.
Frasier: Niles, you make me sound like a goat staked out in a clearing. No one is hunting me down. No one is closing in on me. [Frasier opens the door to find a large number of balloons floating outside]
Frasier: Oh, look. These must be from the station [examines the card] "From your number one fan Kari. Your time has come. You're finally going to get what you deserve."
Niles: The loop tightens.

Frasier: Stop it, Niles. She's probably just referring to the fact that it's time I win this award. Try as you will you are not going to turn me into some sort of a nervous wreck. [Frasier tries to move the balloons inside, but one bursts in the process. He jumps back startled] It's just not going to happen!

Roz: Frasier, you've got to do something. Don't you remember "Leo the Happy Chef"? He had an obsessed fan too. It started out innocently, just like yours, and she ended up breaking into his house.
Frasier: Yes, I understand she bent his whisk and scratched all his Teflon.

[Doorbell rings]
Frasier: That must be him. Who is it please?
Niles: Lizzie Borden. I want you to autograph my hatchet.

Cindy: Don't move, but I think I see her. Red dress standing by the bar. She's staring at every man who comes in here but she's hiding her face behind a program.
Frasier: Oh, that is my producer Roz. She's harmless. She just has a pimple on her nose. Looks like some kind of biblical plague.

Bulldog: And who's this lovely lady?
Cindy: Cindy Carruthers.
Frasier: Careful. She has a concealed weapon.
Bulldog: That makes two of us.
Martin: He's not kidding. She's his bodyguard.
Bulldog: Hey. How'd you like to check out a body worth guarding? Cindy grabs Bulldog by the neck]
Cindy: If I move my thumb a quarter of an inch I could kill you.
Bulldog: Whoa! I've never been so turned on in my life. Okay, let me go. ... So, can I call you?

[The elevator door opens to reveal Frasier pinning down a woman in a red dress]
Frasier: Roz, Roz, find Cindy!
Woman: Help me please. Get him off me.
Roz: Frasier, are you insane? This is Mrs. Littlejohn, the Head of the Nominations Committee.
Niles: Emilia Littlejohn? This is a small world. I know your brother, Aubrey.

Frasier: Roz, what is the matter with you? You're supposed to be screening these calls!
Roz: Just douse me in gasoline and toss me a match.
Frasier: I was hoping a stern warning would do the trick.