Frasier: Gee, so what do you think of the place? Is it everything you imagined it would be?
Roz: Well, to be frank, Frasier, I don't spend my idle hours imagining how you live. But I did expect lots of beige. And look, I was right.

Martin: What are you doing to do now?
Frasier: Well, they forced my hand. I'm going to call the police.
Martin: 555-3000.
Frasier: Thanks, Dad. Try to mess with Dr. Frasier Crane, I'll teach them. Hello. Oh, yes, just a second. Dad, who do I ask for?
Martin: Have them put you through to the Fine Arts Forgery Department.
Frasier: Hello, yes, the Fine Arts Forgery Department, please. Dad! They're laughing at me.
Martin: Give me the phone. Hi, who's this? Hey, Doris! Yeah, Marty Crane. Yeah, that was my son. I just thought he needed a bite of a reality sandwich. Yeah, give my best to the guys. Thanks. Yeah, bye.
Frasier: What was that?
Martin: Frasier, the boys downtown have got their hands full with murders and robberies. They don't have time for this artsy-fartsy stuff.

Martin: Forget it, Frasier. Five years of litigation and you'll end up paying eight times what you paid for the painting.
Niles: He's right about that.
Frasier: God, I hate lawyers!
Niles: Me too. But they make wonderful patients. They have excellent health insurance and they never get better.

Daphne: I may be just a girl from Manchester, but I have to tell you. Even though it's not a Paxton, I really like that picture. I liked it the minute I saw it. I liked it before I even knew who Martha Paxton was. And, quite frankly, I don't think that woman bathes.

Frasier: I want my money back.
Phillip Hayson: Oh, well, that's where things might get a bit ... prickly. You see, we have a strict policy here at the Hayson gallery all sales are final.
Frasier: But, in this case, you're willing to make an exception.
Phillip Hayson: Oh, I'd love to, but I can't.
Frasier: Yes, but it's a forgery.
Phillip Hayson: Well, if it is, it's a damn good one.
Frasier: Alright, alright, I'm going to make this simple. I want my money.
Phillip Hayson: I'm sure you do.
Frasier: Oh, I know what you're doing. You're "handling" me. You're agreeing with everything I say hoping I'll tire and go away.
Phillip Hayson: Whatever you say.
Frasier: I don't believe it! You're shining me on. You are shining me on! Where is the fairness in this, where is the justice?!
Phillip Hayson: Dr. Crane, if you ever find justice in this world, let me know, will you? Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do. [walks away]
Frasier: What? Did a crate of freshly-painted Rembrandts just arrive?!

Daphne: Well, my theory on death is: first you're whisked down a long dark tunnel towards a beautiful white light; you suddenly get all the jokes you never got before, you let out a little chuckle, and then you die!

Roz: So, which one is your dad?
Frasier: He's the older gentleman over there, talking to Bethany Van Pelt, showing her the photographs. Oh, my God!
Martin: And when we finally got to her, it was only hanging by two tendons.
Frasier: Would you excuse us, please? Dad, stop showing the crime scene photos. You're embarrassing me.
Martin: Oh, these society people eat these up. Besides, she was the one who brought it up.
Frasier: She brought it up? Bethany Van Pelt, the head of the Junior League, brought up the subject of a hooker whose body was hideously dismembered and scattered all over an abandoned warehouse?
Martin: Yeah. She asked, "Aren't these Swedish meatballs the messiest thing you've ever seen?" And I said "no..."

Frasier: Would you like a drink?
Roz: Sure, something light would be nice.
Frasier: Young man.
Roz: Double bourbon, rocks, and spill a little in the glass.

Daphne: Look at this fresh fennel. Ooh, it smells wonderful, doesn't it?
Niles: It certainly does.
Daphne: Dr. Crane, were you sniffing my hair?
Niles: Why would I do a thing like that? I'm a happily married man. I love my Maris.
Man: Where should I put this coat?
Niles: Just throw it on the bed.

Frasier: May I take your ... poncho?
Martha Paxton: No, no, no, no, I never take it off at parties. It gives me an excuse not to shake hands with people.
Frasier: Oh, how delightfully eccentric! You must meet my brother, Niles. Oh, Niles?