George: Welcome back.
Estelle Costanza: [gasps]
George: Pretty quick for a... catered affair.
Frank Costanza: I don't know what you mean.
George: You ditched me. That's twice. Now I demand to know what's going on!
Frank Costanza: George, we've had it with you. Understand, we love you like a son, but even parents have limits.
Estelle Costanza: The breakups, the firings, and every Sunday with the calls.
Frank Costanza: What my wife is trying to say is that this is supposed to be our time.
George: I'm not following.
Frank Costanza: I'm sorry, George, we're cutting you lose.
George: You're cutting me loose?
Frank Costanza: Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to make love to your mother.

Kramer: Come on, Frank, I need you. I mean the war was fifty years ago.
Frank Costanza: In my mind, there's a war still going on.
Kramer: All right, what happened, Frank? What is it that you can't get over?
[Frank pours a shot of whiskey and drinks it]
Frank Costanza: Inchon, Korea, 1950. I was the best cook Uncle Sam ever saw. Slinging hash for the fighting 103rd. As we marched north, our supply lines were getting thin. One day, a couple of GIs found a crate. Inside were six hundred pounds of prime Texas steer. At least, it once was prime. The use date was three weeks
past. But I was arrogant. I was brash. I thought if I used just the right spices, cooked it long enough...
Kramer: What happened?
Frank Costanza: I went too far. I over seasoned it. Men were keeling over all around me. I can still hear the retching, the screaming. I sent sixteen of my own men to the latrines that night. They were just boys.
Kramer: Frank, you were a boy too. And it was war. It was a crazy time for everyone.
Frank Costanza: Tell that to Bobby Colby. All that kid wanted to do was go home. Well, he went home, all right. With a crater in his colon the size of a cutlet. Had to sit him on a cork the eighteen-hour flight home!
Kramer: Frank, now listen to me. Two hundred Jewish singles need you. This is your chance to make it all right again.
Frank Costanza: No. No, I'll never cook again! Never! Now get out of my house! Get out. Go.

Kim: So many years, Frank. So many years. If only you had taken your shoes off.
Frank Costanza: I couldn't because I had a potential foot problem.
Kim: I thought maybe you had a hole in your socks.
Frank Costanza: I wiped them for two minutes on the mat. I don't know why your father had to make a federal case out of it.
Kim: Anyway, that is all in the past. We have our whole future ahead of us.
Frank Costanza: Between you and me, I think your country is placing a lot of importance on shoe removal. [brakes screech]
Kim: You short stop me? We don't do that in Korea! Take me home. I never want to see you again.

Frank Costanza: What is this thing anyway?
Mrs. Ross: It's Cornish game hen.
Frank Costanza: What is that, like a little chicken?
George: It's, uh, it's not a little chicken. [laughing] Little chicken. It's a game bird.
Frank Costanza: Game bird?
George: Yeah.
Frank Costanza: What do you mean? Like, you - you hunt it?
Mr. Ross: Yes.
Frank Costanza: How hard could it be to kill this thing?

George: Thank God that's over.
Estelle Costanza: The mother seems to hit the sauce pretty hard. I didn't like that.
Frank Costanza: And who doesn't serve cake after a meal? What kind of people? Would it kill them to put out a pound cake? Something.
George: So, they didn't give you a piece of cake? Big deal.
Estelle Costanza: It is a big deal. You're supposed to serve cake after a meal. I'm sorry, it's impolite.
Frank Costanza: It's not impolite. It's stupid, that's what it is. You gotta be stupid to do something like that!
Estelle Costanza: Your father's absolutely right. We're sitting there like idiots drinking coffee without a piece of cake!

Morty Seinfeld: [answers phone] Hello?
Frank Costanza: This is Frank Costanza.
Morty Seinfeld: What do you want?
Frank Costanza: You think you can keep us out of Florida? We're moving in lock, stock and barrel. We're gonna be in the pool. We're gonna be in the clubhouse. We're gonna be all over that shuffleboard court! And I dare you to keep me out! [hangs up]
Morty Seinfeld: [to Helen] I'm sorry, we can't go back to Florida.

Frank Costanza: What you saw in that van was a natural expression of a man's love for his lady.
George: [whimpers]
Estelle Costanza: Your father's right. It's beautiful.
Frank Costanza: And it was safe.
George: Oh, God.
Frank Costanza: Now if you'll excuse me, once again, your mother and I...
George: Oh, make it stop.

George: All right, so let me ask you a question. Who was the man in the cape?
Frank Costanza: He was my lawyer.
George: Your lawyer wears a cape?
Frank Costanza: Yeah. So what?
George: Who wears a cape?
Frank Costanza: He's very independent. He doesn't follow the trends.
Estelle Costanza: He looks ridiculous in that thing.
Frank Costanza: You have no eye for fashion!
Estelle Costanza: I have no eye for fashion?

Estelle Costanza: Georgie, what were you doing poking around the attic last night?
George: I-I wasn't in the attic.
Estelle Costanza: I heard noise.
George: Maybe it was a mouse.
Frank Costanza: [jumps to his feet] Okay, that's it! We're moving!
George: What?
Frank Costanza: I will not tolerate infestation.
George: You haven't even seen one.
Frank Costanza: Don't you understand? The very thought, the very idea, I'll never be comfortable again.
Estelle Costanza: All right, Frank, that's enough.

Frank Costanza: [on Jerry's answering machine] Jerry, it's Frank Costanza. Mr. Steinbrenner is here, George is dead, call me back!