Newman: Oh, calm down, everyone. No one's cancelling any mail.
Kramer: [whispers] Oh, yes, I am.
Newman: What about your bills?
Kramer: The bank can pay them.
Newman: [scoffs] The bank. What about your cards and letters?
Kramer: E-mail, telephones, fax machines. Fedex, telex, telegrams. Holograms.
Newman: All right, it's true! Of course nobody needs mail. What do you think, you're so clever for figuring that out? But you don't know the half of what goes on here. So just walk away, Kramer. I beg of you.

Mail Clerk: May I help you?
Kramer: Yeah, I'd like to cancel my mail.
Mail Clerk: Certainly. How long would you like us to hold it?
Kramer: Oh, no, no. I don't think you get me. I want out, permanently.

Newman: You're in trouble, Kramer. I shouldn't even be talking to you, but I'm telling you as a friend. Here's how it's going to happen. You may be walking. Maybe on a crisp, autumn day just like today. When a mail truck will
slow beside you, and a door will open, and a mailman you know, maybe even trust, will offer to give you a lift.
Kramer: Are you through?
Newman: No! And no one will ever see you again!
Kramer: Are you through?
Newman: Yes. No, wait! OK, yes. [seeing agents] Quick! Get in!
Kramer: Oh, no, no, no. That's exactly how you said it was going down.
Newman: There's another way it can go down, and it's going down right now!
Kramer: No. You said a mailman I know, and you're a mailman I know!
Newman: I know you know, but you don't know what I know.
[Kramer is grabbed by the agents]