Newman: I called in sick. I don't work in the rain.
George: You don't work in the rain? You're a mailman. "Neither rain nor sleet nor..." It's the first one.
Newman: I was never that big on creeds.
George: You were supposed to deliver my calzones. We had a deal!
Newman: I believe the deal was that I get the calzones on my route. Well, today I won't be going on my route, will I? Perhaps tomorrow.
George: But I'm paying you!
Newman: Yes, thank you. [closes door]
George: Newman!

Newman: It's the truck, Kramer. The truck!
Kramer: Look, Newman, I told you to let this thing go.
Newman: No, no, no, no no. Listen to me. Most days, the post office sends one truckload of mail to the second domestic regional sorting facility in Saginaw, Michigan.
Kramer: Uh-huh.
Newman: But, on the week before holidays, we see a surge. On Valentine's Day, we send two trucks. On Christmas, four, packed to the brim. And tomorrow, if history is any guide, will see some spillover into a fifth truck.
Kramer: Mother's Day.
Newman: The mother of all mail days. And guess who signed up for the truck.
Kramer: A free truck? Oh boy, that completely changes our cost structure. Our G and A goes down fifty percent.
Newman: We carry a couple of bags of mail, and the rest is ours!
Kramer: Newman, you magnificent bastard, you did it!
Newman: Let the collecting begin!

Jerry: I can't believe I'm losing Pam.
Newman: I know how you feel. For I, too, have a woman for whom I pine.
Jerry: I thought we were talking about me.
Newman: Right.
Jerry: Anyway, I don't need your help.
Newman: Oh, don't you, joke boy? You really think you can manipulate that beautiful young woman like the half-soused nightclub rabble that lap up your inane "observations"?

Jerry: Unfortunately, the immutable laws of physics contradict the whole premise of your account. Allow me to reconstruct this if I may for Miss Benes, as I've heard this story a number of times. Newman, Kramer, if you'll indulge me. According to your story, Hernandez passes you and starts walking up the ramp. Then you say you were struck on the right temple. The spit then proceeds to ricochet off the temple striking Newman between the third and forth rib. The spit then came off the rib, made a right turn, hitting Newman in the right wrist, causing him to drop his baseball cap. The spit then splashed off the wrist, pauses in mid air, mind you, makes a left turn and lands on Newman's left thigh. That is one magic luggie.
Newman: Well, that's the way it happened.

Newman: Okay, here it is.
Kramer: Good. (To Earl) Here's my collateral.
Earl: So it's a mailbag. So what?
Newman: So what? Do you know whose mailbag that is?
Earl: "David Berkowitz."
Newman: Son of Sam. The worst mass murderer the post office ever produced.
Earl: Where did you get this?
Newman: I took over his route. And boy, were there a lot of dogs on that route.
Earl: Any of them talking to you?
Newman: Just to tell me to keep off the snacks! [all laugh]
Earl: [to Kramer] Your buddy's a hell of a guy.
Kramer: Yeah, don't I know it.

Newman: Oh, by the way, what are you doing for the Super Bowl?
Jerry: I dunno, watch it on TV I guess. Why?
Newman: Well, if you watch closely enough, you just might see me. I'll be the one waving to the camera from my seat on the forty yard line.
Jerry: You're going to the Super Bowl?
Newman: Yes, I am. A guy on my mail route just got a couple of tickets and he offered one to me.
Jerry: What's his name?
Newman: Tim Whatley.
Jerry: That's my ticket!
Newman: Is it?! Oh, well if only you'd known, you could have saved some time and given it directly to me! [laughs; exits]
Jerry: Newman!

Newman: Great streak of luck I'm having. First, Kramer almost beat me at Risk, but I narrowly escaped, and then Tim Whatley gives me his Super Bowl ticket.
Jerry: Can you move over at all?!
Newman: And then- Then, just as I'm about to go, these boxes show up at the post office with no labels. No labels, Jerry. You know what that means? Freebies! I got this great mini-TV and a VCR, oh it's unbelievable.
Jerry: An inch! Can you move over an inch?

Jerry: Newman! Open the door, Newman. I know you're in there.
Newman: [opens door] Hello, Jerry. What a pleasant surprise.
Jerry: There's nothing pleasant about it. Why don't we just cut the crap. You gave me fleas. I know it and you know it.
Newman: Fleas? [laughs] That's preposterous. How could I give you fleas? Now, if you don't mind...
Jerry: Oh, but I do. There's probably fleas crawling all over your little snack bar.
[As Jerry looks in Newman's apartment, Newman frantically scratches his body behind Jerry's back. He stops as soon as Jerry turns around.]
Newman: So you have fleas. Maybe you keep your house in a state of disrepair. Maybe you live in squalor.
Jerry: You know, Newman, the thing about fleas is that they irritate the skin. And they start to itch. Oh, maybe you can hold out five seconds or 10. Maybe 15 or 20. But after a while [waves Chunky wrapper], no matter how much willpower a person may have, it won't matter because they're crawling... Crawling on your skin. Up your legs, up your spine, up your back...
Newman: All right, I've got them! I'm rife with fleas!

[opening the door to a police officer]
Newman: What took you so long?

Newman: Well, you certainly are in a bind.
George: Yeah. And I thought since you go buy there everyday, we could help each other out.
Newman: [chuckles] Oh, well. Let me perfectly blunt. I don't care for you, Costanza. You hang out on the west side of the building with Seinfeld all day and just laughing it up, wasting your lives.
George: Are you going to help me or not?
Newman: All right, all right. I will help you. But I will except something in return.
George: What?
Newman: Well, for starters I want a calzone of my own.
George: All right.
Newman: And a slice of pepperoni pizza. And a large soda. And three times a week, I shall require a canolie.
George: That's a little steep, don't you think?
Newman: You know, I hear Mr. Steinbrenner can be a bit erratic. I would hate to see him when he's hungry.
George: All right, all right.
Newman: Do we have a deal?
George: Just make sure you have them to me by one o'clock. He's very regimented about his meals.
Newman: I know exactly how he feels. Well, nice doing business with you. Do come again. [laughs]