Schmidt: Well, Nicholas, I came to a decision last night. I'm entering a new chapter in my life, and I think it best that I do it alone.
Nick: You're going to one of those weekend spas again, buddy?
Schmidt: No. In the famous words of singer-songwriter Billy Joel-
Nick: Don't do this.
Schmidt: I'm moving out.
Nick: You're the worst.

Nick: Fine. You know what? You want to do this? You and me are gonna get weird about race? Do your Seinfeld.
Winston: Come... Nick, that's not...
Nick: Do your Seinfeld.
Winston: What's the deal with bananas? I mean, they got orange juice, you got apple juice, where's the banana juice?
Nick: [laughs] I never thought of that.
Winston: Ah, boy.
Nick: 'Cause you got orange juice, you...

Cece: And so exactly how do you plan to avoid this man that you are trapped in the same hotel with? There are, like, a thousand porns that start that way.
Jess: Yeah, but no porns have teachers.
Cece: Every porn has a teacher.

Jess: Okay, everyone was doing it with pies?
Coach: Well, Y2K was an uncertain time.
Nick: I don't know "everyone," Jess.
Coach: I might have dabbled.

Schmidt: Damp! Damn it! Everybody ... bathroom now!
Jess: What's up, Dad?
Nick: What, Schmidt?
Schmidt: Is someone playing a joke on me? Honestly, why is my towel still damp?
Nick: 'cause it's not your towel. It's my towel, Schmidt.
Schmidt: No, it's not your towel. Your towel is the red one.
Nick: I'll tell you this, pal. I've never used that. I do use that one every single day.
Schmidt: Oh, God. [gags]

Nick: I think I'm handling it well.
Jess: Yeah, you are. You are. You're... You know, you're not drunk, you haven't left me 300 voicemails.
Nick: And you're not crying while watching that movie Ghost.
Jess: Well, it's Dirty Dancing.
Nick: Doesn't Swayze do a dirty dance with that clay?
Jess: That's not Dirty Dancing. It's Ghost. It's a different movie.
Nick: Which one takes place at camp?
Jess: Dirty Dancing.
Nick: Which one's Whoopi in?
Jess: Stop asking me questions about them.

Jess: [sings] Ooh, hoo, hoo I feel my temperature rising Burning, burning Must be 109 Cause your Kisses light my fire And the sweet sound of the choir And you light my morning sky Of burning love Ooh, I'm just a hunk, a hunk of burning love Ooh, I'm just a hunk, a hunk Of burning love, ooh. [talking] Pallbearers, please come down.