Estelle Costanza: I don't understand you. I really don't. You have nothing better to do at three o'clock in the afternoon? I go out for a quart of milk. I come home, and find my son treating his body like it was an amusement park!
George: Ma.
Estelle Costanza: Don't give me "Ma". It's a good thing I didn't hit the table. I could have cracked my head open.
George: Ma, people can hear you.
Estelle Costanza: Too bad you can't do that for a living. You'd be very successful at it. You could sell out Madison Square Garden. Thousands of people could watch you. You could be a big star!
George: All right, Ma, that's enough!

Estelle Costanza: I knew it. I knew it. I always knew you always had beautiful hands. I used to tell people. Frank, didn't I use to talk about his hands?
Frank Costanza: Who the hell did you ever mention his hands to?
Estelle Costanza: I mentioned his hands to plenty of people!
Frank Costanza: You never mentioned them to me!
George: Hand me an Emory board.
Estelle Costanza: I always talk about your hands. How they're so soft and milky white.
Frank Costanza: No! You never said milky white!
Estelle Costanza: I said milky white!

Estelle Costanza: You're not Chinese?
Donna: No.
Estelle Costanza: I thought you were Chinese.
Donna: I'm from Long Island.
Estelle Costanza: Long Island? I thought I was getting advice from a Chinese woman.
Donna: I'm sorry.
Estelle Costanza: Well, then that changes everything.
George: What?
Estelle Costanza: She's not Chinese. I was duped!
George: So what? She still gave you advice. What's the difference if she's not Chinese?
Estelle Costanza: I'm not taking advice from some girl from Long Island.

Estelle Costanza: Sorry to bother you, Judge.
Judge Vandelay: How did you get in here?
Estelle Costanza: Please. If he's found guilty, please be kind to him. He's a good boy.
Judge Vandelay: This is highly irregular.
Estelle Costanza: Well, maybe there's something I can do for you.
Judge Vandelay: What do you mean?
Estelle Costanza: You know.

George: Hey, look at that. They got lobster on the menu. Who would order a lobster here? I mean, do they bring a lobster in everyday hoping today's the day.
Estelle Costanza: So what if they have a lobster? Suddenly you're a shell-fish connoisseur.
George: You know, I think we really need to be in front of a television set. You take T.V. out of this relationship, it is just torture.

Estelle Costanza: Is it safe to come in?
George: Oh, of course. Of course.
Estelle Costanza: You're not having any of your transvestite parties?
Frank Costanza: Will you stop it?
Estelle Costanza: I lived with him for forty years, I never saw him trying on my underwear. As soon as he leaves the house, he turns into J. Edgar Hoover!

Estelle Costanza: Where am I going to sleep?
George: What are you talking about?
Estelle Costanza: I can't sleep in there!
George: Of course you can.
Estelle Costanza: I can't! [screams] I can't!

George: So, uh, Mom, Dad, I was hoping that you could help me to remember my childhood a little clearly..
Estelle Costanza: I feel a draft. [grabs the bread basket and her drink] Let's change tables.
Frank Costanza: Get outta here! We have a booth.
Estelle Costanza: Frank, I'm cold!
Frank Costanza: Order a hot dish.
Estelle Costanza: Why can't we sit over there?
Frank Costanza: That's not a booth!
Estelle Costanza: So, who says we have to sit in a booth?!
Frank Costanza: I didn't take the subway all the way to New York to sit at a table like that!
Estelle Costanza: Well, I didn't take the subway to be in a drafty restaurant!
George: Mom, Dad.
Frank Costanza: Now, George, what do you want to know about your childhood?
George: Actually, I think I'm pretty clear on it.
Frank Costanza: Where's that breeze coming from?

Estelle Costanza: Poor Georgie. Was it our fault this happened to him? Did we do something wrong? Maybe it was our fault.
Frank Costanza: Maybe it was your fault. It wasn't my fault. I can tell you that.
Estelle Costanza: Oh, so it was my fault, but not yours.
Frank Costanza: You were the one who smothered him.
Estelle Costanza: I did not smother him.
Frank Costanza: You smothered! He couldn't get any air! He couldn't breathe! He was suffocating!
Estelle Costanza: Sure, and you were always in Korea with your religious chachkis.
Frank Costanza: I had to make a living!

Frank Costanza: We'll go out for dinner tonight.
Estelle Costanza: I can't tonight, I'm busy.
Frank Costanza: What do you mean, busy?
Estelle Costanza: I'm having dinner with someone.
Frank Costanza: With whom?
Estelle Costanza: Sid Farkus.
Frank Costanza: Sid Farkus?! You're not having dinner with a bra salesman.
Estelle Costanza: Hey, he only sells them. He doesn't wear them!