Niles: You know, the next time you give your clothes away, why don't you just stay in them?
C.C.: I feel like I have died and gone to heaven.
Niles: I have that dream, too, but you go in the other direction.
Brighton Sheffield: Yeah, it just so happens that your voice carries.
Fran: To your bedroom?
Brighton Sheffield: To Michigan.
Fran: Question, when they shot Bambi's mother did you find that a sad moment? At all?
C.C.: I'm sure she's mounted on a nice wall in a fine home somewhere.
Mr. Sheffield: Can you keep a secret?
Niles: Well, I'm good until I meet the next person.
C.C.: This isn't a typical night.
Niles: Yes, you're not home alone sitting on your foot massager watching "Sisters."
C.C.: I wouldn't be caught dead in that dress.
Niles: You'd have to be dead six months to fit in it.
Sylvia Fine: Major Nelson and Jeannie tied the knot.
Fran: If she had any commitment to that relationship, she would have given up her apartment.
Sylvia Fine: It was a bottle, they kept it on the mantle.
Sylvia Fine: Yetta! These aren't Fran's children! Fran doen't have any children! She's not married, SHE'S ALL alone.
Fran: Louder, Ma, I don't think they heard you in uruguay.
Fran: By the way, Niles, what is your family name?
Niles: It's just Niles... Like Cher.
Max: You are going to rectify this situation.
Fran: Wow, that sounds painful.
C.C.: I'll never get to the airport on time.
Niles: That's true, sir, she needs at least two people on her broom to use the Express Lane.
Niles: Oh, what are you doing here, the sun is up.
Max: Oh Niles, what is it this time? Your job, your weight, no future?
Niles: Well, Sir, I was just wondering why I have no social life but you cleared that right up for me.
Sylvia: Do I smell banana fritters with fresh fruit compote?
Niles: No.
Sylvia: Could I?
Niles: Miss Fine and Miss Babcock walking arm in arm. Isn't that one of the biblical signs of the apocalypse?
C.C.: What's Maxwell doing in London?
Niles: One would hope, Miss Fine.
Niles: Good things come to those who wait, unless they wait too long and they slip through their namby-pamby fingers.
Mr. Sheffield: He can't make you happy.
Fran: I don't wanna be happy. I wanna be married.
Ode to Barbara Joan [aka Daddy Dearest] - S1-E20
Max: Tell you what. What you say I get us some box seats to opening day at Shea stadium, and you'll see how the pros do it.
Brighton: Well at least the Mets.
Answer: Mr. Sheffield needed someone to manage the kids, not necessarily babysit them. Brighton was a Bart Simpson type, Maggie was shy and awkward and Gracie had personality issues.