Mrs. Doubtfire: Oh, I thought I saw Clint Eastwood. That would make my day!
Chris: You don't really like wearin' that stuff, do you, Dad? Daniel: Well, some of it's comfortable... No!
Mrs. Doubtfire: [Winston] was quite fond of the drink. It was the drink that killed him. Miranda: How awful. He was an alcoholic?
Mrs. Doubtfire: I hope you bring cocktail sauce.
Mrs. Doubtfire: Carpe dentum.
Mrs. Doubtfire: What a lovely home you have. Did you decorate this yourself? Miranda: Yes, I did.
Tony: You take all these cans, you box 'em, you ship 'em. Then you box those cans over there, ship them, then more will come in. You box those, you ship those. Any questions? Daniel: After you box them...? Tony: You ship 'em. Lotsa luck, smartass.
Mrs. Doubtfire: I admire your honesty, Natalie, that's a noble quality. Never lose that.
Lou: Daniel, that line was not in the script. Why did you add it? Daniel: Well, I thought I should comment on the situation. Lou: What situation?
Daniel: Oh, Mrs. Sellner! I think you'll be very pleased with me. I've been through some really interesting changes and I'm becoming a new man and a model father.
Daniel: I feel like Gloria Swanson. Frank: You look like her mother.
Mrs. Sellner: Mr. Hillard, do you consider yourself humorous? Daniel: I used to.
(Daniel throws a lime at Stu's head) Mrs. Doubtfire: Oh, sir. I saw it! Some angry member of the kitchen staff. Did you not tip them? Oh, the terrorists! They ran that way.
Cop: Ma'am, are you aware that it's against the law to possess animals of a barnyard nature in a residential area?
Daniel: Grandma will finish [Charlotte's Web] for you. Natalie: She's not as good. She always skips parts, and she never does the voices. She smells funny, too.
Mrs. Doubtfire: Isn't this posh? I'll bet it's very exclusive.
Frank: Older? You mean like a Shelly Winters older, or Shirley MacLaine older? Daniel: What's the difference?
Daniel: There should be a disclaimer that says 'Do Not Operate Heavy Machinery While Watching This Show'. This guy used to put me to sleep when I was a kid.
Mrs. Doubtfire: Sink the sub? Hide the weasel? Park the porpoise? A bit of the old Humpty-Dumpty? The Bone Dance, eh? Little Jack Horny, Baloney Bop?
Mrs. Doubtfire: Upstairs, my little noseminers! Go! Flee before me! Onward and upward! Go pump some neurons.