Norm: And so the woodchuck says to the lumberjack, "l was talking to the log." [chuckles]
Mr. Brubaker: I never much cared for jokes in which animals speak. Let's go.
Norm: No, no. Neither do l. I used that as a kind of awful joke a mediocre accountant might use. Can we have some coffee? What do you say?
Mr. Brubaker: No, thank you. It keeps me awake.
Norm: Well, I can see why you wouldn't want that. No, sir. Come on. We haven't discussed business at all, sir. And I really think we ought to just have a spot of something. What do you say?
Mrs. Brubaker: Well, I'd like a glass of water.
Norm: Specialty of the house. Come on, sit down. Sit down, and I'll just run up to the bar and get it myself. It'll be much quicker that way. Just keep the old party going, you know.

Carla: Sam, would you relax? I'm your biggest fan, I'm not worried. That jersey is gonna sell, and for a wad.
Sam: You think so?
Carla: Absolutely. Money in the bank. Just stop doubting yourself and trust me.
Sam: You're right. What am I doing?
Carla: Woody, how much have we raised?
Woody: We got $116 and a pledge for a quart of buttermilk.

Diane: Sam, I'm sorry.
Sam: That's okay. Well... This is it, huh? The end of an era. Well, maybe I can finally put my career in perspective. Enjoy it for what it was. I was a small player in a big town. But that's okay. That's okay. I had-- I had some laughs, some good times, some bad times. And now, I guess I'm no longer Sam Malone, ex-baseball player. I'm Sam Malone, ex-ex-baseball player. Just an average guy doing an average job. That's something I can be proud of.
Bob: [on TV] Hold everything. We've had a $300 bid on Sam Malone's jersey.
Sam: All right! Oh, I own this burg! [applause]

Sam: Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Did any of you do it? Come on, just admit it if you did it. Please.
Woody: Honest, Sam. Nobody here bought it. [to Carla] Hey, do you think we have enough for that potato-powered clock?

Sam: They bought my jersey. Three hundred bucks.
Carla: Sammy, I got a great idea. Why don't you call, have that guy who bought it come here. You could autograph it for him.
Woody: Yeah, you can take pictures and send them to the newspaper.
Carla: That's a good idea.
Diane: It's a terrible idea. Sam, don't you see what's happening?
Sam: What?
Diane: This is a last desperate grasp at glory that you just said was over.
Sam: Oh, come on. Lighten up, will you? Do you have to take the fun out of everything? Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot. You do.

Sam: Well, this must be pretty thrilling for you. Did you see me pitch at Fenway?
Bert: No.
Sam: Uh, caught me on the tube then, huh?
Bert: Not really. Actually, I've never heard of you. But to tell the truth, I wouldn't know a baseball from a meatball.
Woody: Boy, catch me having spaghetti at his house.
Sam: Well, why don't you just let me sign that thing for you, and you can get the hell out of here.
Bert: Oh, I have no interest in that. I thought you might like it back.
Carla: Why did you buy it if you didn't want it?
Bert: Oh, frankly, it was getting on my nerves. I mean, the thing kept coming back. Finally I said to myself, "It's for a worthy cause. Put the damn thing out of its misery."

Norm: All right, there's something you should know. Listen, I found out over dinner that both their fathers were postmen.
Cliff: Postal brats? Normie, Normie, Normie, you should have said so. Stand aside, me bucko, and I'll take care of the rest.