Frasier: Well, apparently the “Dirt Scourge 2000” is no match for the “Dirt Pile 1957.”
Daphne: Well, this is going back. On the commercial they clean all the mud off a hippopotamus.
Frasier: What kind of a woman are you?! You seduced me, you lied to me, you nearly got me killed! You shamelessly manipulated not only me but the station, the news media, and the entire city of Seattle! What do you have to say for yourself?
Bebe: Aren’t you glad I’m on your side?
Niles: How far along are you?
Lilith: I’m nearly done defrosting.
Niles: And the turkey?
Niles: Her lips were saying “no,” but her eyes were saying, “read my lips.”
Frasier: I do not have a fat face!
Niles: Oh, please. I keep wondering how long you’re going to store those nuts for winter.
Frasier: Have you any idea of appropriate baseball-watching attire?
Niles: Obviously, you failed to detect the subtle diamond pattern in my tie.
Frasier: Y’know, Niles, what say I buy us dinner and a lot of martinis?
Niles: Sounds great, except for the dinner part.
Niles: You’re still consorting with that barracuda?
Frasier: Well, a barracuda is what you want in an agent, Niles. Well, it’s just that the station’s been sold, I was hoping she might have some scuttlebutt on the new owner. I must admit she’s rather hard to get a hold of these days.
Niles: Oh really? I thought one just drew a pentagram on the floor and chanted “I summon thee” three times.
Frasier: How can we possibly use sex to get what we want? Sex is what we want.
Daphne: Sex! That’s your answer for everything! It’s like you’re part rabbit. People ought to rub your feet for luck!
Niles: I feel hot….and foamy.
Martin: My hot and foamy must have exploded!
Daphne: He was a detective, you know.
Frasier: Tell you what – the minute we go to news break, I’m going to rush down there and leave this withering note on his windshield. “Dear discourteous driver…”
Roz: Whoa, you can just stop right there.
Frasier: People of Seattle, listen to me! We are not barbarians! We are not neanderthals! And we are not French!
Daphne: His name is Freddy Chainsaw.
Frasier: Chainsaw? Of the Newport Chainsaws?
Niles: Don’t call me irrational. It makes me crazy when you do that.
Daphne: His last album sold five million copies.
Frasier: Oh, well then, I’ll just add that to my list of reasons to die.
Roz: Physical contact extends our lives.
Frasier: Well then, you’ll outlive Styrofoam.
Frasier: Doesn’t he ever stop for sex and drugs?
Daphne: I’m from England, the country that used to own your country.