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]

George: Welcome back.
Estelle Costanza: [gasps]
George: Pretty quick for a... catered affair.
Frank Costanza: I don't know what you mean.
George: You ditched me. That's twice. Now I demand to know what's going on!
Frank Costanza: George, we've had it with you. Understand, we love you like a son, but even parents have limits.
Estelle Costanza: The breakups, the firings, and every Sunday with the calls.
Frank Costanza: What my wife is trying to say is that this is supposed to be our time.
George: I'm not following.
Frank Costanza: I'm sorry, George, we're cutting you lose.
George: You're cutting me loose?
Frank Costanza: Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to make love to your mother.

Frank Costanza: What you saw in that van was a natural expression of a man's love for his lady.
George: [whimpers]
Estelle Costanza: Your father's right. It's beautiful.
Frank Costanza: And it was safe.
George: Oh, God.
Frank Costanza: Now if you'll excuse me, once again, your mother and I...
George: Oh, make it stop.

Rhisa: All right, George. I'm ready.
George: Yeah, hold on. I'm, uh, I'm just trying to get a reading on my dashboard compass. Where are my parents?
Rhisa: Georgie.
Frankie: [yells through the window] Is this Seinfeld's van? Seinfeld's van? Seinfeld's van?!
Rhisa: Wait. What's he saying?
George: I think he's saying Son of Sam! Oh, my God!
Rhisa: No, they caught him.
George: [running away] I knew it wasn't Berkowitz!

Jerry: You know who set this whole thing up for me? Frank Merman.
George: Fragile Frankie Merman? I never liked that guy.
Jerry: Why? He's harmless.
George: Every summer you guys went to camp together. I was jealous. Felt like he was the summer me.
Jerry: He was not the summer you. Besides, you had a summer me. Whitey Fisk, the guy who snuck you into Last Tango in Paris.
George: I made him up.
Jerry: So you never saw Last Tango in Paris?
George: No.
Jerry: Too bad. It was erotic.

Jerry: So you wanna grab a bite?
George: I can't. I gotta make the weekly call to the folks.
Jerry: So call now.
George: I gotta prep. I need a couple of anecdotes, a few you-were-right-abouts. It's a whole procedure.

Estelle Costanza: [answers phone] Hello?
George: Hey, it's Georgie.
Estelle Costanza: Let me put your father on the phone.
George: Ma!
Frank Costanza: [takes phone] Who is this?
George: Dad, it's me. Hey, listen, I was at Fortunoff's the other day, and, you know what, you were right.
Estelle Costanza: [knocks, feigns a Chinese accent] Chinese food.
Frank Costanza: Sorry, George, our Chinese food just came. Talk to you later.
George: Chinese food?

Kramer: Will you look at this? More catalogs! Omaha Steaks, Mac Warehouse, Newsweek?! I can't stop all these companies, so, I'm gonna attack this problem at the choke point.
Jerry: Stop the mail?
Kramer: That's even better!