Kramer: Hi, I'm H.E. Pennypacker. I'm a wealthy American industrialist, uh, looking to open a silver mine in the mountains of Peru. And uh, before I invest millions in a lucrative mine, I, I'd like to go a little native. Uh. Get the feel of their condiments, of their unmentionables. You know, the real uh, gritty-gritty. [eats chips]
Gladys: Well, let me show you what we have.
Kramer: Well, uh, I think I can just browse around on my own. [eats chips] Hmm, Machu Pichu. Are these free?
Gladys: Yeah.
Kramer: Hmm-mmm.
[Kramer walks over to a rack, indiscriminately takes a selection of clothes, and then starts choking on the chips on his way to the changing room]
Gladys: Some of those are women's clothes.
Kramer: Oh, not a problem.
[Kramer closes the curtain. The sound of a pricing gun can be heard. Kramer drops it and then steps on it.]

Mrs. Nyhart: Would you like to see the rest of the apartment, Mister, um--
Jerry: Uh... Varnsen. Kel Varnsen. Actually, this room intrigues me. Why is it called the TV room?
Mrs. Nyhart: Well, it's--
Jerry: [at TV] Balk?! How was that a balk?! You have any snacks?
Mrs. Nyhart: Mr. Varnsen, if you like the apartment, I should tell you I've also had some interest from a wealthy industrialist.
Jerry: Not Pennypacker.
Mrs. Nyhart: You know him?
Jerry: I wish I didn't. Brace yourself, madam, for an all-out bidding war. But this time, advantage Varnsen!

Jerry: So we're going to make the post office pay for my new stereo?
Kramer: It's a write-off for them.
Jerry: How is it a write-off?
Kramer: They just write it off.
Jerry: Write it off what?
Kramer: Jerry, all these big companies, they write off everything.
Jerry: You don't even know what a write-off is.
Kramer: Do you?
Jerry: No. I don't.
Kramer: But they do. And they're the ones writing it off.

Newman: Gentlemen, gentlemen. I am so happy to see you both. There is just some inconsistencies I'd like to straighten out.
Jerry: I'm clean and you know it.
Newman: Clean? Hardly. This doesn't like like a man that is happy with his stereo performance, now, does it?
Jerry: Where did you get that?
George: I think that's one of mine.
Newman: It looks like you're breaking into it like an otter breaks open a clam.
Jerry: Well, I don't know about that but I'm sure there is a explanation.
Newman: Yes, it's called mail fraud. Oh, how I've longed for this moment, Seinfeld. The day when I would have the proof I needed to hall you out of your cushy lair and expose to the light of justice as the monster that you are. A monster so vile!
Co-worker: Newman!
Newman: There will be a small fine.
Jerry: Okay.

Elaine: And then he starts writing on my chart.
George: Well, why don't you get a hold of it and change what you don't like?
Elaine: You can't change your chart. It's your chart.
George: I am in and out of my personnel file at work all the time.
Elaine: You are?
George: Hey, I've kept the same job for more than two years. It's not luck.