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.

Jerry: Maybe he looks a little like Sugar Ray Leonard.
George: A little? Come on.
Jerry: Well, you still shouldn't have said it.
George: You think Morgan thinks I have a racial bias?
Jerry: Maybe.
George: Boy, that is so unfair. I would've marched on Selma if it was in Long Island.
Jerry: So you would have marched on Great Neck?
George: Absolutely. I still might. I always hated those girls. They would never date me.

[stand-up:]
Jerry: How about the little scam the airlines have going now with these special clubs? $150 a year to sit in a room, eat peanuts, drink coffee and soda, and read magazines. Excuse me, but isn't this the flight? I already got four hours of this coming to me. What am I paying for? How about an "I got all my luggage club"? Can I get into that club? Where is that club? I would like to join that club. Airlines love to divide us into classes. You know, like when you're sitting in coach, the stewardess always closes that stupid curtain. Always gives you that look, like, "Maybe if you would work a little harder..."