Schmidt: Not only am I the youngest person in this loft, I'm also the most successful.
Jess: Oh! Shut up, Schmidt. Are you honestly measuring yourself like a little boy?
Schmidt: I'm sorry that you're not growing any more like me. And apparently, I'm gonna be growing forever. I'm like a Jewish Peter Pan. Petya Pan. Peiter Pan. Pesach Pan.
Nick: Why don't you take it down a notch before this old man takes you outside and makes you pick a switch?
Schmidt: I'm like Snow Leopard. You guys are like DOS.

Nick: I like getting older. I feel like I'm finally aging into my personality.
[flashback to Nick reading a comic on his front step as Frisbee lands beside him:]
Young Nick: Keep this crap out of my yard! And turn that nonsense down!
[present:]
Nick: They never did get that Frisbee back. I used that Frisbee as a dish. [chuckles]
Jess: Seriously?
Nick: I used it for pistachios in my room.

Schmidt: Now come on, guys, just tighten up, all right? Think young. What the hell is that smell?
Nick: It's Old Spice.
Schmidt: I'm smelling Old Spice?
Nick: Yeah, and yes, It has "Old" in the title, and yes, it's all over my body.
Schmidt: Okay, well, take it off.
Nick: I'm wearing the Spice. The Spice is cool.
Schmidt: It's not even a real spice, man. Take it off.
Nick: The Spice is coming back! Everybody knows it! The guy on the horse!
Schmidt: You can wear any spice. Don't wear Old Spice!
Winston: Classic cologne fight.

Jess: Guys, that's crazy. This is objectively hilarious. I can do any character from an '80s sitcom. Quiz me.
Nick: No.
Jess: Oh, Alf, don't eat the cat! Get out of the city, Cousin Larry Appleton. I'm Frasier Crane.
Schmidt: No!

Schmidt: So, when he said, "It's just going to be a bunch of young people," well, he must have meant, "You," meaning me, fellow young person, "You'll feel right at home. And you two walking corpses, stay away."
Nick: You're six months younger than me, Schmidt.
Winston: You're a corpse for sure.
Schmidt: Behold. This actuarial table stops at age 99. But if you track my current trajectory, I'm clearly gonna live till I'm 123 years old, so... Hello, robot sex.

Winston: Is this accurate?
Schmidt: No, no, no, Winston, I spend $49.95 a month on a subscription to an inaccurate real-time actuarial service.
Winston: Then I think I may have died four years ago.
Nick: Oh, yeah? That sucks.
Winston: "African-American male, life expectancy: 67 years"?
Nick: Sounds about right.
Winston: "Minus one year if you frequently question your career choice." Check. "Minus one year if your chosen field offers few opportunities for advancement." Check and double check.

Jess: Are you limping?
Schmidt: My hip is achy.
Nick: I wonder if it's your shoes. Did you try different shoes?
Schmidt: I try on four different pairs of shoes with every outfit, rain or shine. You know that.

Schmidt: Would you like to know what I did at my job all day today?
Nick: Don't say "crushed it."
Winston: I'm gonna go with "crushed it."
Schmidt: Funny enough, uh, I crushed it. I crushed it all day today, and then I crushed it some more. And then it asked me what I was doing, and I told it that I was crushing it. That's what I do on a daily basis, Jess. You used to inspire me. I mean, not specifically... because I find teaching to be icky... but, you know, in a vague kind of "Look at that go-getter in a... in a brightly colored sweater" kind of way. What happened to the inspiring, visor-less Jess?

Nick: Winston, you're the worst at pranks in the whole world.
Winston: No, I'm not.
Nick: Yes, you are! You either go way too small...
[flashback:]
Young Winston: Hey. Let's pour a little juice near her shoe.
[present:]
Nick: ...Or you go way too big.
[flashback:]
Young Winston: Hey, let's hit her in the throat with a ski.
[present:]
Nick: You don't have a pranking sweet spot.

Nick: Okay, look, It is perfectly fine to watch TV all day.
Schmidt: No, it is not.
Winston: No, it's not.
Nick: But Urkel?! Come on. Not even in my darkest moments did I do Urkel.