Roz: He also owns a 5,000 acre cattle ranch and the world's largest collection of antique six-shooters.
Frasier: Oh dear God, I'm sucking up to Yosemite Sam.

Frasier: What's going on?
Bulldog: Oh, this is great. I told Gil the new station owner is a Greek tycoon.
Frasier: He fell for that?
Bulldog: Hook, line, and souvlaki!
[in the booth:]
Gil: You can keep your overripe Camembert and malodorous Stilton, they can't compare with the salty insouciance of Greece's glorious Feta. It's not just for shepherds any more! This is Gil Chesterton saying Bon Appetite, or as we say in Athens, kali orexi!
[Frasier, Roz and a laughing Bulldog enter the booth:]
Frasier: Oh, Gil, you've been had. The new station owner isn't Greek, he's from Texas.
Bulldog: You are so easy!

Frasier: That's me, Dr. Frasier Crane, bimbo wrangler.

Roz: Frasier, stop it. This is a golden opportunity. You make this little tootsie quit smoking and we're halfway to
syndication.
Bebe: [entering the booth:] Did someone just say the word "syndication," or do I just hear it every time I lay eyes on my favorite client?

Niles: So, how goes the great smoke-out?
Bebe: Until today, I had no idea what a brilliant therapist your brother is. He has tunneled his way into the very depths of my psyche.
Niles: Well, let's hope he sent a canary down first.

Niles: Let her out that door, she'll smoke half a pack before the elevator hits the lobby.
Frasier: How can you know that? You hardly spoke to her.
Niles: Well, obviously you didn't see the crazed, cunning glint in her eyes.
Frasier: She always looks like that, she's an agent.

Niles: So, I hear your fiancee is well to do?
Bebe: Very. [to Martin] You gonna eat that fat?
Niles: Well, marrying money can have its perils. Ten or fifteen years down the line, after you've adapted to a lifestyle now totally beyond your means, you can find yourself cast aside, a hollow husk, penniless and crushed.
Frasier: Niles, Big Willy's eighty-five. He's on his third pacemaker.
Niles: Ah. Mazel tov!

Frasier: For God's sake, I don't care any more. You know, I can't help you, nobody can. You want to ruin it for both of us? Here, go ahead, knock yourself out. I only wish I could be there when it happens.
Bebe: When what happens?
Frasier: When you see that newspaper headline: "Big Willy Boone, Millionaire, Dead." [Bebe starts to smile] Oh, how I wish I could be there when you watch the funeral on the news. Watch the casket being slipped into the ground. Only, you won't be watching that. No, no, you'll be watching the widow Boone. Tiffany, perhaps. Oh no, better yet, "Kelli" - with an "I".
Bebe: Stop it!
Frasier: You'll picture her wearing your jewels, sailing in your yachts, sleeping with your gigolos. But, oh, you won't be sad, no, no, no! Because you'll have your cigarette. Clutched in your nicotine-stained teeth, smoke
whirling about your once-pretty, now creased, leathery, smoke-ravaged-
Bebe: Enough! God! You are one hell of a therapist.

Martin: Well, what went wrong?
Frasier: Well, they were halfway down the aisle, Big Willy beaming proudly, Bebe radiant, supporting Big Willy on her arm when suddenly he clutched his heart, and his head slumped against Bebe's shoulder. Of course we were all concerned at first, but then suddenly it seemed like he was all right because they kept moving on down the aisle. But if you looked carefully, you could see Bebe's little biceps bulging through her wedding gown, and I swear I noticed daylight between Big Willy's dress boots and the carpet. Well, once they got up to the minister the jig was pretty well up, despite Bebe's valiant attempts to animate his features by twisting the loose skin at the back of his neck. You know, I've never seen a woman more crushed.

Niles: [on the phone] My God, after all our years together, all the good times, all the bad times, you can't loan me a meager four thousand dollars? You must appreciate how hard it is for me to approach you about this. I thought I meant more to you than this, but apparently I don't. [hangs up] And they call themselves "the friendly bank!"