[Jerry enters the apartment without knocking. His hair is messy like Kramer's and he has a frenetic energy.]
Jerry: Hi, buddy. I'm on no sleep. No sleep! You don't know what it's like in there. All night long, things are creeping and cracking. And that red light is burning my brain!
Elaine: You look a little stressed.
Jerry: Oh, I'm stressed!
Elaine: So, Kramer, what am I supposed to do? If I don't have that fur hat by four o'clock they're gonna take me down like Nixon.
Jerry: You know my friend Bob Sacamano?
Elaine: I thought he was Kramer's friend.
Jerry: Well, he called last night about 3 a.m. and we got to talking. He sells Russian hats down at Battery Park, forty bucks.
Elaine: Forty bucks? Are they Sable?
Jerry: No, but the difference is negligible.
Kramer: Oh yeah, I like this idea.
Elaine: All right, lets give it a shot. Let's go.
Jerry: Giddy up!

Kramer: So Heather called?
George: Yeah, but get this. The message said, "Call me if you have the time". If I have the time, you get it?
Kramer: No, but this is all very exciting.
George: She knows that I have her clock. I know that she has my hat. I think she's getting ready to make an exchange.
Kramer: Of course, there's the possibility that you've gone right out of your mind.
George: I've looked at that. It seems unlikely.
Kramer: Well, I'd look again. So, how come you didn't call Jerry about all this?
George: I can't talk to Jerry anymore. Ever since he moved into that apartment he's too much, like you.
Kramer: That's a shame.

Jerry: Seth, you're the manager, can't you turn off the sign?
Seth: Jerry, I lied. I'm just an assistant manager. [over loud speaker] Number sixty seven, family feast.
Newman: Number 67, right here. Right here!
Jerry: Hello, Newman.
Newman: Hello, Jerry.
Seth: And don't forget your steamed broccoli.
Jerry: Hold it. Broccoli? Newman, you wouldn't eat broccoli if it was deep fried in chocolate sauce.
Newman: I love broccoli. It's good for you.
Jerry: Really? Then maybe you'd like to have a piece?
Newman: Gladly. [spits it out] Vile weed!
Jerry: It's Kramer isn't it? The greasy door knob, the constant licking of the fingers, he's hooked to the chicken isn't he?
Newman: Yes! Yes, now please. Someone, honey mustard. [drinks the mustard like it's scotch]

J. Peterman: Elaine.
Elaine: Mr. Peterman.
[After the Burmese boy chops a fruit, Mr. Peterman scolds him in a foreign tongue. The boy runs out of the cave.]
Elaine: You speak Burmese?
J. Peterman: No, Elaine, that was gibberish. So did you have any trouble finding the place?
Elaine: No, you're the only white-poet-warlord in the neighborhood.
J. Peterman: Are you an assassin?
Elaine: I work for your mail order catalog.
J. Peterman: You're an errand girl sent by grocery clerks to collect a bill.
Elaine: Well, actually, I do have a bill here. If you could just sign this expense form, I think I could still make the last fan boat out of here.
J. Peterman: I'd be happy to, Elaine. But I will have to see this hat.
Elaine: Right.

Jerry: How's life on the red planet?
Kramer: It's killing me. I can't eat, I can't sleep, all I can see is that giant red sun in the shape of a chicken.
Jerry: Well, did you go down to the Kenny Rogers and complain?
Kramer: Ah, they gave me the heave-ho. You know, I don't think that Kenny Rogers has any idea what's going on down there.
[Kramer fills a bowl of cereal with tomato juice from the fridge]
Jerry: What are you doing?
Kramer: Getting some cereal
Jerry: That's tomato juice.
[Kramer spits out cereal]
Kramer: That looked like milk to me! Jerry, my rods and cones are all screwed up!

Ipswich: Ms. Benes, the hat you charged to the company was Sable. This is Neutria.
Elaine: Well, that's a kind of Sable.
Ipswich: No, it's a kind of rat.
Elaine: That's a rat hat?
Ipswich: And a poorly made one, even by rat hat standards. I have no choice but to recommend your prompt termination to the board of directors. Nothing short of the approval of Peterman himself will save you this time.
Elaine: But... But he's in the Burmese jungle.
Ipswich: And quite mad, too, from what I hear.
Elaine: Wait. Can I fire you?
Ipswich: No.

Elaine: This is the Urban Sombrero. I put it in the last catalog cover.
J. Peterman: The horror. The horror.

George: A dollar eighty-nine. Why is this $1.89? Why is there no haggling in this country?
Jerry: I guess we like to think we've progressed beyond a knife fight for a citrus drink.
George: Not me. Everything should be negotiable.
Jerry: Restaurants, too?
George: Absolutely. You're telling me there's no room to move on pasta? All starches are a scam.
Jerry: Yeah, especially ziti, with that big hole.

Seth: So how's your stand up career?
Jerry: Good. As a matter of fact, I almost had my own show in Japan.
Seth: You speak Japanese?
Jerry: No.
Seth: So you would have done it in Japan, but in English?
Jerry: ... I don't know.

Elaine: [answers phone] Hello?
Ipswich: Good day, Ms. Benes, this is Roger Ipswich.
Elaine: Oh, hey. How are things doing in accounting?
Ipswich: Ms. Benes, I noticed you have been charging quite a bit of merchandise on the Peterman account.
Elaine: Well, I am the President.
Ipswich: Yes, and we're all very impressed. Nevertheless, the expense account is for business purposes only.
Elaine: Well, isn't the president allowed to do anything that they want?
Ipswich: No, I'll be in your office first thing tomorrow. Good day.
Elaine: Good day.