Newman: How much gas we got?
Kramer: Three quarters of a tank. That's better than we estimated.
Newman: That is seven dollars and twenty-two cents better. Maybe we could uh, stop for a snack.
Kramer: Ah, no, that's not in the budget.
Newman: Yeah, well, the budget changed, you know. I mean, it might be a good investment.
Kramer: That's not a good investment, that's a loss.

Kramer: [on the phone] Yeah, don't worry Jerry. We're right on this guy like stink on a monkey! I'll check back with you.

Elaine: What's the status?
Jerry: Last check-in, they were still on him.
Elaine: Well, have they called the police yet?
Jerry: No, they won't call the police.
Elaine: What? Why not?
Jerry: They're afraid they'll get in trouble for misusing a mail truck. Kramer doesn't want a record.
Elaine: Kramer has a record.
Jerry: Not a Federal record.

Newman: Hey! You're not dumping those bottles back there, are you? Hey, Kramer, those have wholesale value! We could cut our losses.

Mr. Steinbrenner: [to himself] I love this magnifying glass. I feel like a scientist.

Kramer: Damn. I don't understand this. I've ditched every bottle and can, and we still can't gain. It's like we're... [looks over at Newman] sluggish.
Newman: I went through all those bottles and all those cans, for what? What a waste. And I'm really gonna catch hell for those missing mailbags.
Kramer: Hey, wasn't that a pie stand back there?
Newman: [perks up] A pie stand? Where?
Kramer: Oh yeah. Home-made pies, two hundred yards back.
Newman: Aww, come on, pull over. Pull over, will you?
[As Kramer pulls the truck to the side of the road, Newman sticks his head out the window to peer back]
Newman: Where? I..I..I don't see it.
Kramer: Well, open the door, you'll get a better look.
[Newman slides back the door and leans out]
Newman: I don't see any pie...
[Kramer kicks Newman from behind and sends him plummeting into the verge]
Newman: Kramer!
Kramer: I'm sorry, Newman, you were holding us back.
Newman: [as Kramer drives away] Kramer!

Kramer: [on the phone] Jerry! We've lost the fat man, and we're running lean. We're back on track, buddy!

Farmer: Hello, stranger.
Newman: Ah, look, I... I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm a US postal worker and my mail truck was just ambushed by a band of backwoods, mail-hating survivalists.
Farmer: Calm down, now. Calm down. Don't worry, we'll take care of you. This farm ain't much, but uh, you're welcome to what we have. Hot bath, hearty meal, clean bed.
Newman: Oh, thank you, sir.
Farmer: Just have one rule. Keep your hands off my daughter.
[As the Farmer speaks, his twenty-something, blonde daughter by and gives Newman a smile]

Farmer: Enjoy that mutton?
Newman: It's delicious mutton. This is uh... This is outta sight. I would, I would love to get the recipe. It's very good.
[Newman tries to be cool as the Farmer's daughter flirts with him]
Newman: [chokes]
Farmer: That cider too strong for you?
Newman: No, no. I love strong cider. I'm a big, strong, cider guy.
Farmer: Gonna be milking Holsteins in the morning, if you'd like to lend a hand.
Newman: You know, I don't really know that much about uh.. I don't have any.. I don't.. I don't think I know much about that.
Farmer: Ah, Susie here'll teach you. Just gotta pull on the teat a little.
Susie: It'll be nice having a big, strong, man around.
Newman: You know, those mail bags, they get mighty heavy. I uh, I Nautilus, of course. [to the farmer] Can I have some gravy?

Susie: No daddy, you'll hurt him! I love him! [waving after Newman] Goodbye Norman, goodbye.