Sam: [on the phone with Rebecca] I'll be over as soon as I can. [hangs up] Shoot.
Woody: Who was that?
Sam: Ah, it's Rebecca; she's all upset. Your father-in-law invited her over to his place to listen to music tonight. She thought she was supposed to be his date; got all dressed up in a fancy dress. Turns out she's only there to tend bar.
Woody: How could she make that mistake?
Sam: Oh, come on, Woody. Put yourself in her position: you know, attractive guy asks you over to his place to listen to some music, wants you to wear a fancy dress... you'd go wouldn't you?
Woody: Oh, no. No, my high school drama teacher tried that one on me. "Once bitten, twice shy," my friend.

Sam: [To Rebecca, after he learns she burned down the bar] Of all the stupid things you've done in your useless life... this is your masterpiece.

Sam: I keep askin' myself: what is the point to life?
Woody: Whew. That's a tough question.
Cliff: Ehh. Well, I got the answer.
Frasier: Somehow I knew you would.
Cliff: Comfortable shoes.
Frasier: Shoes?
Cliff: Yeah. If you're not wearin' comfortable shoes, life is just chaos. I mean the greatest accomplishments in history have been made by men wearin' accommodating shoes. Uh, Frasier, tell me, who do you think is the greatest thinker in all mankind?
Frasier: I don't know, uh... Aristotle.
Cliff: There you go: sandals. Perhaps the most comfortable shoe there is. You hardly even know you have them on. I mean Confucius: thongs. Einstein: loose loafers.

Sam: The woman I choose is gonna feel very special. You know, like when a great chef picks the perfect pork chop.
Frasier: [sarcastically] That's beautiful, Sam.

Sam: Well, at least I didn't fly across the country to make an ass out of myself.
Diane: Why bother when you do it so brilliantly right here?

Sam: You know I think you should go home, wake Vera, and do whatever comes naturally.
Norm: Wake her up so she can watch me eat a bucket of buffalo wings?

Woody: What's a Fruedian slip?
Cliff: It's when you say one thing and mean a mother.

[After the guys have to sing naked at Gary's, they're getting dressed in the backroom]
Sam: That was the low point in my life. Never, ever, have I been naked and not had fun. I tell you it was degradation.
Woody: I thought we were a lot tighter the second show.
Paul: How am I ever gonna show my face in here again?
Norm: Paul, it's not your face that's burned into my memory.
Cliff: You know, I kinda found the whole thing, uh, quite exhilarating.
Norm: Exhilarating?
Cliff: I meant humiliating.

[Cliff enters the bar]
Sam: Hey, Cliffy. How ya doin'?
Cliff: Not well, Sam. Boy am I mad. I've never been this upset! Three words, fellas. Three words... "Dames is grief"!
Norm: Fighting with ma, huh?
Cliff: Oh and how. Seems like that's all we do anymore. You know, you'd think it'd be a perfect set-up: a mother and a grown son living in a one-bedroom apartment. But, no. Reality check, gentlemen! Life is not like the movies, I guess, huh.
Sam: I'm sure it'll all blow over, Cliffy.
Cliff: Oh, no way, Sammy; not this time. I tell you that broad's pushed me too hard - too hard, I tell ya! And it's about time I started pushin' back. She's just gone and created a monster, that's all. But this monster is not gonna lie in some tomb of ice, no siree. My anger will melt that ice so that I might rise up and... and crush the Tokyo of the buildings there beneath the talons of my animosity...
Frasier: [interrupts] Cliff. Cliff. We all appreciate how hard you're working on this metaphor, but we get the idea.

[Franklin "Brig" Howe has sent Rebecca to pack her things]
"Brig" Howe: In the meantime, I'll just stay here and wait. Give me a beer.
Norm: [shows his empty mug] Sir, did I ever tell you that I was in the Coast Guard?
"Brig" Howe: Coast Guard, huh? Well you must be very proud, Miss.
Norm: So, buy a girl a drink?

[Gary has walled up the bar; the Irish band has arrived; Sam won't give up]
Sam: All we need is � uh, what � a little winning attitude, right? A little positivity. [to the Irish band] Hey, fellas, do me a favor. Play us a little something to get us in the mood.
Irish band: [singing] "They broke into our Dublin home, the dirty English dogs. They took away my sister and they beat my Da with logs. Limey scum, limey scum, I toss a bomb and still they come." Everybody! "Limey scum, limey scum..."

[Norm is afraid he'll have to sleep with Dot Carroll, the IRS agent, to prevent the audit of his taxes.]
Cliff: Relax, Norm. I've been brainstorming. I've come up with a plan.
Norm: I'm desperate. I'll try anything. Come on.
Cliff: Tell you what, here's the plan: I go to the hotel in your place, right? I reach in, flick off the light, say "Room service for Dot Carroll". In the meantime, I got a big bag full of wild squirrels with sparklers attached to their tails. I drop 'em in the room; they run around terrified, setting off the alarms and the sprinklers... OK? In the ensuing hub-bub, she forgets all about her little date with you. Trust me - you think a cold shower's a mood killer? Try a bag of wild squirrels.
Norm: Thanks, Cliff, but you don't have to go to the trouble.
Cliff: That's all right... I already got the squirrels.

[Sam is locked out of his place and comes to Carla's]
Carla: Well, I guess you can stay here for the night.
Sam: Yeah, yeah. Alright, thanks.
Carla: Look, Sammy.
Sam: What?
Carla: No matter what you hear, no matter how much I scream or call for help... do NOT open the bedroom door. Got it?
John Allen Hill: Ditto for me, too, Sam.
Sam: Oh, no no... [he leaves]

[Sam stays at Cliff's house]
Esther Clavin: Dear Lord, bless Clifford and me, unworthy wretches that we are. Bless the postal system and keep it from harm... by helping it to detect the real loonies. Bless our friends, and thank you for letting Sam find succor here tonight. Bless the late Mr. Clavin - I know he's not in your vicinity, but rather roasting in hell on a spit reserved for those who desert their families. Amen.