Robby: I know you're capable of messing up.
Jess: Really? Because you won't even admit that the gym thing is my fault. Your lawyer wants you to sue me, and frankly, I agree with her. So sue me.
Robby: I am not gonna sue you.
Jess: Then how can I ever trust you?
Robby: That doesn't make any sense.
Jess: You know what? If you're not gonna sue me, then get out of here.
Robby: Fine. But I will tell you this: you will not be hearing from my lawyer.

Cece: Okay, I'm sorry, the cubicle will be gone soon, but this is a real make-or-break moment for me. Either I'll look back at this as my "Steve Jobs in the garage" phase, or that misguided month where I tried to be a manager at the dining room table.
Schmidt: You are absolutely Jobs. And I'm Woz sitting next to you the whole time in a... slightly lower chair. And speaking of jobs, by the way, you guys need to be like Winston and start getting jobs for Donovan.
Nick: Don't you basically work on ads for a living, Schmidt?
Schmidt: Yeah, well, my current account is for a menopause pill that eliminates night sweats.
Reagan: Oh, you're repping EstroFuel?
Schmidt: Yes. Chest bump.

Nick: Would it help if I read some of it out loud? Just so you get the New Orleans flavor?
Reagan: I think it will.
Nick: [Cajun accent] "Julius Pepperwood loved three things in his life... his gumbo... his sex... and more of that sweet gumbo. [chuckles] Her legs were as long as the deep..." [Reagan snores] You have got to be kidding me!
Reagan: Just kidding.