Frasier: [responding to a caller] Roger, at Cornell University they have an incredible piece of scientific equipment known as the Tunneling Electron Microscope. Now, this microscope is so powerful that by firing electrons you can actually see images of the atom, the infinitesimally minute building blocks of our universe. Roger, if I were using that microscope right now, I still wouldn't be able to locate my interest in your problem.
Frasier: Hello, Ethan. I'm listening.
Ethan: Hi, Dr. Crane.
Frasier: How old are you?
Ethan: I'm thirteen.
Frasier: Well, what can I do for you?
Ethan: Well, I'm having a lot of problems with the other kids at school. They're always beating me up.
Frasier: Why do you think that's so?
Ethan: Probably because I'm smart. I have a 160 IQ. I'm in the astronomy club and I hate sports.
Frasier: Well, you know, Ethan, the other children are just acting out of jealousy and immaturity, and I know it doesn't help much right now, but the day will come in the next few years when you will have the last laugh.
Ethan: ...That's it?
Frasier: [surprised] Yes.
Ethan: Frankly, Dr. Crane, I find that advice patronizing, simplistic and, in all candor, uninspired. The real surprise here is that they pay you to dole out this balloon juice.
Frasier: Ethan, where are you calling from?
Frasier: Well, if any of Ethan's classmates are listening, you know where he is, and he can't stay in there forever. Thank you for your call.
Frasier: Niles, is there a light bulb over my head?
Niles: You have an idea?
Frasier: No, I'm asking if there's actually a light bulb over my head.
Daphne: I suppose I like my gents more on the manly side.
[Looking at the napkin Niles is holding]
Daphne: Is that a little swan you just made?
Niles: No, it was a B-52.
[Frasier is trying to get Bebe to quit smoking]
Frasier: For God's sake... I don't care anymore. You know, I can't help you, nobody can. You want to ruin it for both of us? Here...
[tosses her a lighter]
Frasier: ... go ahead, knock yourself out.
[Bebe begins to light cigarette]
Frasier: 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." 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: [tortured] 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!
Frasier: Because you'll have your cigarette.
[Bebe stares at her cigarette with fear]
Frasier: Yeah! Clutched in your nicotine-stained teeth, smoke whirling about your once-pretty, now creased, leathery, smoke-ravaged...
Bebe: [anguished] Enough!
[Bebe hands the cigarettes to a triumphant Frasier]
Bebe: God! You are one hell of a therapist!
[Niles watches Martin working out a chess problem]
[Martin reaches for another piece]
Martin: All right, what would you do?
Niles: Well for starters, I'd take that corn-nut off the board.
Martin: That corn-nut's my bishop. Eddie ate the real one.
Niles: In that case, Corn-nut to Rook Seven.
[Looking through a box of keepsakes from Niles' childhood]
Martin: Oh, no one around here draws pictures anymore.
Martin: What the heck is this, anyway?
Niles: Oh, that is an Egyptian battle scene from AÔda. Look, that's Radames, and that's the jealous Amneris, and -
Niles: Oh, I misspelled Amonasro. Ah, to be six again...
Frasier: So, how do the calls look today?
Roz: Well, we've got a couple of jilted lovers, a man who's afraid of his car, a manic depressive, and three people who feel their lives are going nowhere.
Frasier: Oh, I love a Monday.
Frasier: Hello, Rachel. I'm listening.
Rachel: Oh, thanks for taking my call, Dr. Crane. Um, I'm involved in sort of a strange love triangle.
Frasier: Oh goody, this is sweeps week!
Frasier: Cupid and his arrow have declared me an endangered species.
Frasier: And though washing one's hands twenty to thirty times a day would be considered obsessive/compulsive, please bear in mind that your husband is a coroner. Thank you for your call, Jeanine. Roz, whom do we have next?
[Buldog is doing his radio show]
Bulldog: [to a caller] Well Chuck, I'm really sorry I offended you. Now why don't you put your skirt back on and do some dishes?
Bulldog: Where's my pen?
[Slapping down angrily on the table]
Bulldog: THIS STINKS! THIS IS TOTAL BS! THIS IS... Oh, here it is.
Frasier: This is Dr. Frasier Crane wishing you all good mental health.
[In some versions of the closing credits theme]
Frasier: Scrambled eggs all over my face; what is a boy to do?