Norm: All four cheeks & a couple of chins.
Norm: The question is, “What’s going in Mr. Peterson?” A beer please, Woody.
Norm: I know, if she calls, I’m not here.
Any cheap, tawdry thing that will get me a beer.
Norm: [to Cliff] He’s added one.
Norm: Science is seeking a cure for thirst and I happen to be the guinea pig.
Norm: No, I’d like a dead cat in a glass.
Daddy wuvs you.”
Norm: We never go beyond this room.
Norm: My ideal weight if I were eleven feet tall.
Norm: Like I just ran over its dog.
Norm: See you later, Vera [his wife]; I’m going to Cheers.
Norm: I need something to hold me over until my second beer.