Dr. Frasier Crane: Daphne... you can't go. You have to stay. I've only just recently realised how important you are to us. You see, if you go, Dad and I will kill each other. I'm not just tossing out hyperbole here, I'm speaking in the most literal sense: Dad and I, both dead. Only he'll be lying there with a bacteria-ridden sponge protruding from his mouth like a bloated tongue!
Frasier: What was it like in the old days, when you actually had to get up to change the channel?
Martin: It was hell.
Martin: I just spent five minutes trying to button these pants. That stupid dryer shrunk another pair on me!
Frasier: Dad, before you blame the dryer, have you ever considered stepping on el bathroom scale?
Martin: What's the point? That thing's been ten pounds off for weeks.
Daphne: That works out fine for me! I'll just spend all day waiting on you and your father, and then in the evenings retire to me room, wrap meself in me afgan and wait for morning. And if my whimpering gets too loud for you, you can just have me fixed like Eddie.
Frasier: I was going to ask Daphne not to sleep with Joe in the house. Is that too...
Frasier: I was going to say selfish.
Roz: Oh, let's see. "Please Daphne don't have sex. It disturbs my reading." No, that's not too selfish!
Frasier: I'm getting an estimate on restoring my study.
Martin: Why didn't you use Joe?
Frasier: I think Joe's done enough work in that room.
Martin: Boy, what a tortured little world you live in! Newspapers strewn all over the place! Sponge germs coming after you! It's a wonder you can sleep at night!
[Niles is obsessing about not being invited to any more society functions]
Dr. Niles Crane: Oh wait, wait. I know what happened. My invitation just got lost in the mail... No, it's not so far fetched. It could have been mis-sorted, or a stamp could have fallen off, or it could have been stolen by my mail carrier. Ho-downs are catnip to postal workers!
[Roz enters in time to catch the last sentence]
Roz: Well, I'd ask you to explain that, but then... you would.