"Well ya see, Norm, it's like this... A herd of buffalo can only move as fast as the slowest buffalo. And when the herd is hunted, it is the slowest and weakest ones at the back that are killed first. This natural selection is good for the herd as a whole, because the general speed and health of the whole group keeps improving by the regular killing of the weakest members. In much the same way, the human brain can only operate as fast as the slowest brain cells. Excessive intake of alcohol, as we know, kills brain cells. But naturally, it attacks the slowest and weakest brain cells first. In this way, regular consumption of beer eliminates the weaker brain cells, making the brain a faster and more efficient machine. That's why you always feel smarter after a few beers."
-Cliff Claven

Woody: Hey Mr. Peterson, there's a cold one waiting for you.
Norm: I know. If she calls, I'm not here. 

If only we could live in a culture where men could kiss men without shame.
-- Norman

Cliff: Is this me or is this getting a little weird?
Carla: You passed weird six months ago.
Norm: Now you're boldly going where no man has gone before.
Cliff: Boy, I guess it's true what they say, huh? There's a fine line between gardening and madness.

Woody: Can I pour you a draft, Mr. Peterson?
Norm: A little early, isn’t it Woody?
Woody: For a beer?
Norm: No, for stupid questions.

Lilith: It's ironic isn't it? No sooner do I get the closet of my dreams than my husband comes out of it.

Dr. Frasier Crane: So, how do you like Cheers?
Dr. Lilith Sternin: Well, it seems adequate for its purpose. But I have a feeling that you only brought me to this place to surround yourself with people you know and I don't.
Dr. Frasier Crane: Well, yes. But what's more, I thought that we might have a drink or two thereby lowering our inhibitions a bit, and enabling us to go back to your place and have a physical encounter of some sort.
Dr. Lilith Sternin: Well, we won't.
Dr. Frasier Crane: I appreciate your candor.
Dr. Lilith Sternin: No you don't.
Dr. Frasier Crane: You're right. I feel like striking you.
Dr. Lilith Sternin: Your attempt at machismo is totally inadequate. You can't even make eye contact.
Dr. Frasier Crane: I could look at you if I wanted to, but frankly I've grown tired of counting the comb marks in your hair.

"Due to the shape of the North American elk's esophagus, even if it could speak, it could not pronounce the word lasagna."
-Cliff Clavin

Lilith: That's very good, Carla. Incidentally, I've taken your little wisecracks for a few years now, you hideous gargoyle, and if you ever open that gateway to hell you call a mouth in my direction again, I'll snap off your extremities like dead branches and feed them to you at gunpoint.

Norm: It's a dog eat dog world, and I'm wearing Milkbone underwear.