Martin: Now, sit down. Your breakfast is ready.
Frasier: No, Dad. Dad, look, all I ever have is a bran muffin and a touch of yogurt.
Martin: Girly food. Besides, I already fixed your breakfast. Now, I made you eggs in a nest.
Frasier: Ah, yes, the Crane family specialty. Fried eggs swimming in fat, served in a hollowed-out piece of white bread. I can almost hear my left ventricle slamming shut as I speak.
Martin: You want cheese on that?
Frasier: No. I'd like to leave some blood flow for the clot to go swiftly to my brain.

Bulldog: Hey, where the hell's my Cosell tape? Somebody stole my Cosell tape! This stinks. This is total BS! This- Oh, here it is.

Roz: What, you don't talk to your dad like that?
Frasier: Hardly. We hardly speak at all.
Roz: Really?
Frasier: Well, you know, we're not really very similar people. In fact, my brother and I are a lot more like my mother. You know, if it wasn't biologically impossible, I'd swear that Dad was dropped in a basket on our doorstep.

Niles: Ask yourself, Frasier, have you tried to sit down and talk to him? I mean really talk to him?
Frasier: Well, I- Maybe I haven't done my best. I guess I owe that to the old man, don't I? Well- Thanks for the chat, Niles. You're a good brother and a credit to the psychiatric profession.
Niles: You're a good brother too.

Frasier: Down, Eddie, down. I said down. Good boy, Eddie. Just get down. Good, good, Eddie. Get down! Dad. Dad, I can't read my paper. Eddie's staring at me.
Martin: Well, you do make quite a picture in the morning. Just ignore him.
Frasier: I'm trying to.
Martin: I'm talking to the dog.

Frasier: Can't have my coffee. Can't have my breakfast. [looking at Martin's chair] Oh, dear God, it wasn't a dream. I'll get him for this. And his little dog too.

Frasier: Let us get something clear. I am not a morning person. I have to ease into my day slowly. First I have my coffee, sans eggshells or anything else one tends to pick out of the garbage. Then I have a low-fat, high-fiber breakfast. Finally, I sit down and read a crisp, new newspaper. If I am robbed of the richness of my morning routine, I cannot function. My radio show suffers and, like ripples in a pond, so do the many listeners that rely on my advice to help them with their troubled lives. I'm sorry that this may sound priggish, but I've grown comfortable with this part of myself. It is the magic that is me.

Martin: I heard that!
Frasier: Well, of course you heard it. You're never out of earshot!
Martin: Oh, you know, you've always been like this. You were always a fussy little kid and it's gotten worse ever since. You and your precious morning routine. You've got to have your coffee, you got to have your quiet, you got to have this, you got to have that. Well, aren't you a little hothouse orchid?

Niles: Hello there, Frasier.
Frasier: Oh, what fresh hell is this?

Frasier: It doesn't have to be a long, drawn out conversation. I'm talking three minutes of your life.
Martin: Well, I hope it really is only three minutes, because my program's coming on.
Frasier: Well, if it will make you any happier I'll get the egg timer and I'll set it for three minutes.
Martin: So what do you want to talk about?
Frasier: Well, the idea is for us to have a normal, honest conversation. Just like two normal people. Without getting on each other's nerves. Ready? Go.
Martin: This is stupid.
Frasier: One second? That's our personal best?