Elaine: Well, I- I got to tell you, Mr. Peterman. I don't think I see a whole book here.
J. Peterman: Well, I'm sure we'll come up with something. What do you say you and I order ourselves a pie? Do you like Lorenzo's?
Elaine: You know, a friend of mine almost got beat up at that place by the Van Buren Boys?
J. Peterman: You don't say.
Elaine: Yeah. The only think that saved him is that he accidentally flashed their secret gang sign.
J. Peterman: Well, that's pretty exciting. Let's put that in the book.
Elaine: But, that didn't happen to you.
J. Peterman: Well, so we pay off your friend, and it becomes a Peterman.
Elaine: No, I- I really don't think you can do that.
J. Peterman: Oh, damn. I forgot to buy plant food again. I'll bet I got a coupon for it.
Elaine: You know what? Maybe I better talk to my friend.

J. Peterman: Ah, Fong has been most accommodating. Shall we?
Jerry: Actually, you know, I just remembered I promised this comedy club that I'd do a set tonight, so, terribly sorry.
J. Peterman: I understand. No hard feelings. George and I will miss your company. Fong? It will just be two this evening. George, we dine.

George: You know, this is very nice, but I really could take a cab. Really.
J. Peterman: Ha ha, nonsense, George. Besides, it gives me a chance to tell you about my latest trip to Burma, where I discovered a very unusual corduroy. [answers car phone] Peterman here. What? Oh no. All right, I'll be right there. [to George] It's my mother. She's at death's door.
George: What?
J. Peterman: I just pray to God we can make it there in time.
[As Peterman makes a swift U-turn, George's face is slammed up against the passenger window]

J. Peterman: Doctor, how is she?
Doctor: She's too weak to talk, but she'll be happy to hear your voice.
J. Peterman: Mama, it's me. Jacopo. I'm here for you, Mama.
[Peterman's mother looks over at George]
George: I'm, uh, George Costanza. I was having dinner with your son. [waves]

J. Peterman: Shake off the dew, my friend.
George: Oh, man. What time is it?
J. Peterman: It's morning. Thanks for seeing me through the night. I'll make us a pot of coffee, George. Watch her, won't you?
George: Who?
J. Peterman: Mama. Just talk to her, George. The doctor seems to think it helps.

J. Peterman: Look, there's a man in there. Get out of there, you're in danger!
Man: But my sleeve, it's stuck in the machine, it ate my card!
J. Peterman: George, give me your ATM card!
George: I don't have my ATM card.
J. Peterman: George, you're obviously lying. Anyone can see that! [takes George's card] It's jammed! I'll slide it under the door.
Man: Now give me your code!
George: What?! Why?
Man: The machine won't open without the code!
J. Peterman: George, give him your code!
George: But I-I-I-
J. Peterman: George, there's no time! Tell him your code! Shout out your code, man!
Man: The code! The code!

J. Peterman: Elaine, do you see this? Do you see what I'm holding is my hands?
Elaine: Yeah, it's a bra.
J. Peterman: I saw a woman in our hallway wearing one of these as a top. What exquisite beauty, I ran down the hallway to talk to her, but the elevator door closed. It was not to be. Perhaps our paths will cross again some day.
Elaine: What is this all about?
J. Peterman: I wanna market this item as a new direction in women's fashion. We're gonna sell this as a top. Here's the angle: Zelda Fitzgerald... somebody in the '20s, wearing this at wild parties, driving all the men crazy. Have it on my desk by the end of the week.

J. Peterman: Elaine, I think I've been working you a little too hard, lately. So, I have two tickets for you to the
Flying Sandos Brothers magic show.
Elaine: Ah.
J. Peterman: It is a real hoot.
Elaine: Well, thank you, Mr. Peterman.
J. Peterman: Ah, the tickets are for tonight. So you and Bob can knock off a little early, so you both can get ready.
Elaine: Uh, Mr Peterman, you...
J. Peterman: (interrupting) There's no need to deny it, Elaine. I heard every word you said. And I know you wouldn't be just having fun with his handicap. That kind of cruelty would be grounds for dismissal.
Elaine: Of course, Mr Peterman.

J. Peterman: Elaine! You found the clubs. That's wonderful news. Where are they?
Elaine: Yep. Let me get them for you, Mr. Peterman.
J. Peterman: Oh, I'll be inaugurating them this weekend, with none other than Ethel Kennedy. A woman whose triumph in the face of tragedy is exceeded only by her proclivity to procreate.
[Elaine places the bag of wrecked golf clubs down in front of Mr. Peterman]
Elaine: The, uh... The letter of authenticity's in the side pocket there.
J. Peterman: Elaine. I never knew Kennedy had such a temper.
Elaine: Oh. Oh yeah. The only thing worse was his slice. [nervous laugh]
J. Peterman: See you on Monday.
Elaine: Have a good game.

J. Peterman: Oh, Elaine, this dry air is curing me like a Black Forest ham.
Elaine: Mr. Peterman, you're back. [goes into his office]
Morty Seinfeld: Who's Mr. Fancy?