Cheers (1982)

Woody: Jack Frost nipping at your toes, Mr. Peterson?
Norm: Yeah, now let's get Joe Beer nipping at my liver.

Woody: What's shakin', Mr. Peterson?
Norm: All four cheeks and a couple of chins.

Norm: Next to Sammy's life, my life has always appeared dull. Then again, next to a barnacle's life, my life has always appeared dull.

Sam: I've never met an intelligent woman I'd want to date.
Diane: On behalf of all the intelligent women in America, may I just say: whew.

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

Woody: How can Darth Vader be Luke Skywalker's father? They don't even have the same last name.

Sam: You drinking again?
Rebecca: Certainly not. I never stopped.

Frasier: Sam, I had the most incredible evening. Last night, I dreamed about something - not Diane. Well, she was in the background chattering on about something, naked, but the important thing is, I was a therapist again.

Coach: How's life treating you Norm?
Norm: Like it caught me in bed with its wife.

Rebecca: You're not letting your employees take advantage of you, are you?
Norm: Yeah, maybe a little bit. Yesterday afternoon the guys decided to just knock off early and go bowling.
Rebecca: So what did you do?
Norm: I broke 200. Personal high. It was great.

Norm: I have, on several occasions, been known to perspire a bit.
Carla: We could grow rice.

Cliff: Hey Carla, I have a potato that looks like Richard Milhouse Nixon.
Carla: Big deal. Show me one that doesn't.

Diane: Sam, may I have a brief word with you?
Sam: I suppose you could, but I doubt it.

Norm: I want something light and cold.
Carla: Sorry, it's Diane's day off.

Diane: He's trying to make a mountain out of a molehill.
Carla: He wants you to wear a padded bra?

Woody: Would you like a beer, Mr. Peterson?
Norm: No, I'd like a dead cat in a glass.

Woody: Pour you a beer, Mr. Peterson?
Norm: Alright, but stop me at one. Make that one-thirty.

Sam: What's new, Normie?
Norm: Terrorists, Sam. They've taken over my stomach and they're demanding beer.

Sam: Diane, I've got a problem.
Diane: Who is she, and how many months?

Sam: You know... You know I always wanted to pop you one? Maybe this is my lucky day, huh?
Diane: You disgust me. I hate you.
Sam: Are you turned on as I am?
Diane: More.