Cliff: Who'd have thought it, Rebecca and Frasier? What's next, me and Carla!?
[Carla grabs him by the back of the head]
Carla: Don't say it, Clavin, don't you even think it!

Cliff: You can call me a traditionalist, call me out of step with the times but I prefer to get my women the old-fashioned way.
Carla: In a plain brown wrapper?

Cliff: You know any female that rides around with Sammy in the car ends up going straight to bed with him.
Rebecca: I've ridden in that car.
Norm: Right.
Rebecca: Well I didn't go to bed with him.
Norm: Right and they always deny it afterwards.

Cliff: You know it's quite remarkable. To float something as heavy as a wedge of lime, beer must have quite a high buoyancy factor.
Carla: So do your loafers.
Norm: Call me old-fashioned Cliff, but the only thing I like floating in my beer is my liver.

Coach: [about Sam] I never realized what a brain he is. I study all the time -- he sleeps in the classroom. He never takes a note and still he gets the great grades. No wonder he's Miss Purdy's favorite.
Diane: Miss Purdy?
Coach: Yeah, our beautiful school-teacher.
Diane: And Sam is her favorite?
Coach: Well, uh, I can't say that; but, uh, Sam's the only one I ever saw her kiss.
Diane: They kiss?
Coach: Yeah. I saw them smoochin' in the parking lot. I was putting up a notice there on the bulletin board.
Diane: With probing tongues?
Coach: No, Diane. With a thumbtack and my thumb.

Coach: Beer, Norm?
Norm: That's that sudzy amber stuff, right? Been hearing good things about it.

Coach: Beer, Normy?
Norm: Coach, I don't know. I'll have one next week... what the heck I'm young.

Coach: Boy Doc, you tell great stories.
Frasier: That was Poe.
Coach: Don't be modest, it was great.

Coach: How about a beer, Norm?
Norm: Hey I'm high on life, Coach. Of course, beer is my life.

Coach: How about tellers? You take tellers. They never tell you anything. They always ask questions. And interest, there's nothing interesting about it at all. It's boring. Oh and then the trust department, they got all the pens chained down to the tables. What kind of trust is that?

Coach: How's life treating you Norm?
Norm: Like I ran over its dog.

Coach: It's the damnedest thing. I've been shivering all the way over here.
Diane: Well, Coach, you don't have a coat on. It's 30 degrees outside.
Coach: Oh, thank god. I thought I had malaria.

Coach: Let me give the sign.
Sam: I don't know, isn't it kinda tricky?
George: Well, he is the last person Harry would suspect to be in on anything clever.

Coach: My friends call me 'Coach', but my other nickname is 'Red'.
Helen: Why? Because your hair used to be red?
Coach: No, because I read a book.

Coach: Norm, you're in here every night, doesn't your wife ever wonder where you're at?
Norm: Wonders... doesn't care, but she wonders.