Martin: Hey, Fras, how was your dinner?
Frasier: Not since Quasimodo strolled the streets of medieval Paris have so many people uttered the phrase, "That poor man."

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.

Niles: Frasier, are you all right?
Frasier: I was fine before you screamed. What the hell's wrong with you?
Niles: Well, Daphne said you were depressed and here you are with your head in the oven.
Frasier: I was cleaning it, Niles. It's electric. If I was going to end my life I'd choose something quicker than broiling.

Franklin: Could we just stop for a second? This whole getting-left-at-the-altar thing— I just don't know what I'm supposed to be feeling.
Frasier: I may be able to illuminate that for you! What you are feeling is that this woman has reached into your chest, plucked out your heart, and thrown it to her hell-hounds for a chew toy! And it's not the last time either! Because that's what this woman is! She is the devil! There's no use running away from her, because no matter how far you go, no matter how many years you let pass, you will never be completely out of reach of those bony fingers! So, drink hearty, Franklin, and laugh! Because you have made a pact with Beelzebub! And her name is Mary Ann!

Niles: Well, that's a bit harsh.
Frasier: Oh, please. This is a woman who believes the Spanish Inquisition was just tough love for heretics.

Daphne: What a horrible thing to happen. Can you picture poor Mrs. Crane confined to a jail cell?
Frasier: Only if they moved the bars closer together.

Frasier: Everyone, I would like to introduce you to the newest member of our furniture family!
[Frasier reveals an exact copy of Martin's chair, minus all the duct tape that had been added over the years]
Martin: Oh! Where did you find this?
Frasier: You can't find that, Dad. It doesn't exist anymore. Which is why I contacted a master builder, showed him some photographs, and had him duplicate it. As for the material, I tracked down the original manufacturer, and once I got them to admit they made it, I had them reweave it!
Daphne: It must have cost a fortune.
Frasier: Yes. Ironically, this is now the most expensive piece of furniture in the entire apartment.

Frasier: Now listen, before anyone says something they'll regret...
Daphne: Butt out! If you hadn't opened your big mouth we wouldn't be in this mess. Donny wouldn't be suing me and everyone else in sight and I wouldn't be out two weeks salary for a new dress I'm apparently never going to wear, [to Niles] and you wouldn't be kowtowing to that shrew of a wife of yours!
Frasier: This is all my fault?
Niles: Oh shut up, Frasier! The only thing more hollow than your protest of innocence is your big fat head!
Frasier: I am wounded!

Frasier: Oh, come on in, Niles. Bebe's just bringing me up to speed on her depressing news about my contract negotiations.
Bebe: Don't worry, dear, I just need to find a way to throw a scare into 'em.
Niles: Have you tried turning into a bat?
Bebe: I would, love, but most grown men don't share your fear of tiny creatures.

Niles: [storming in] You unprincipled charlatan! You unconscionable fraud! Happy Birthday, Dad.
Martin: Thanks.
Frasier: Niles, what are you talking about?
Niles: You spoke to a patient of mine today, Caroline. As a result of your fast-food approach to psychiatry, she left me.
Frasier: Caroline was your patient?
Niles: Two years of my hard work wiped out by one of your two-minute McSessions.
Frasier: Niles, I merely suggested that she consider a change.
Niles: Based on what diagnostic method? One potato, two potato?