George: I still don't see why I can't ask her about my arm.
Elaine: She's a physical therapist. She doesn't want to have to deal with that outside of the office.
George: Why not?
Elaine: Because it is what she does.
George: I love these people! You can't ask them questions. They're so mentally gifted that we mustn't disturb the delicate genius unless it's in the confines of an office! When huge sums of money are involved, then the delicate genius can be disturbed!
Elaine: George, you got a little something, right here.
George: [wiping face] These people think they're so important!

Receptionist: Oh, hi. Mr. Costanza, we were trying to get in touch with you. Wendy can't make her appointment. [clicks tongue]
George: What do you mean?
Receptionist: She had some personal affair she had to attend to. I left a message on your machine. You didn't get it?
George: When did you leave the message?
Receptionist: A few hours ago.
George: Oh, I'm sorry, I require twenty-four hours notice for a cancellation. Now, as I see it, you owe me seventy-five dollars.
Receptionist: Look, Mr. Costanza...
George: Will that be cash or check? [clicks tongue]

Wendy: I'm sorry, I don't owe you anything. I had some personal business that day.
George: Oh, I see. So your time is more valuable than mine. Is that it? You're a delicate genius!
Wendy: A delicate genius?

Elaine: Wendy, I injured my shoulder, Wednesday, when you dropped me off and I had to carry my skis, and my boots, and my poles and everything, all the way home. I'm, I'm having trouble lifting my arm. Do you think you could give me some treatment?
Wendy: Oh, sure. You have insurance, right?
Elaine: Insurance? You're charging me?
George: [returns] Wednesday? That's your personal business?! Skiing?! Oh, sure, let people suffer, while you're shushing all over a mountain?

[stand-up:]
Jerry: Now, I was thinking the other day about hair, and that the weird thing about it, is that people will touch other people's hair. You will actually kiss another human being, right on the head. But, if one of those hairs should somehow be able to get out of that skull, and go off on its own, it is now the vilest, most disgusting thing that you can encounter. The same hair. People freak out. "There was a hair in the egg salad!"

Jerry: Well, I'm going on record right now that that was my last kiss hello. I am getting off the kiss program with her.
Elaine: Why?
Jerry: Well, you know, frankly, outside of a sexual relationship, I don't see the point to it. I'm not thrilled with all the handshaking either, but one step at a time.

Jerry: There's a squeeze ketchup.
George: I've seen squeeze mustard. I've never seen squeeze ketchup.
Jerry: Well, if they make squeeze mustard, doesn't it stand to reason that they make squeeze ketchup?
George: Not necessarily. Mustard lends itself to the squeeze.
Jerry: I really don't see the difference.
George: Oh, there's a difference. It's subtle.
Jerry: It's subtle?

Kramer: I'm putting everybody's picture up in the lobby of our building.
Jerry: Why?
Kramer: So everyone will know everybody's name. See, people are gonna be a lot friendlier.
Jerry: I, I don't want my picture plastered up in the lobby.
Kramer: Imagine walking by someone on the floor, and you say "Hey, Carl!" and he says "Hey, Jerry!" You see, that's the kind of society I wanna live in.
Jerry: Kramer, I don't wanna stop and talk with everyone, every time I go in the building. I just wanna nod and be on my way.
Kramer: [to Elaine] You know, your eyeliner's smudged a little. Why do you wear so much eye makeup?
Elaine: Yeah. This is gonna work out just fine.

Morty Seinfeld: Do you know what the interest on that fifty dollars comes to over fifty-three years?
Helen Seinfeld: Oh, Morty, please.
Morty Seinfeld: S663.45. And that's figuring conservatively at five percent interest, over 53 years, compounded quarterly. Or, if you put it into a 10-year T-bill-
Helen Seinfeld: Morty, will you stop it!
Morty Seinfeld: Well, he's not getting away with this!

Receptionist: Ah, you owe a $150.
George: What for?
Receptionist: Well, you cancelled on Tuesday, and our policy is "twenty-four hours notice, for all cancellations". [clicks tongue]
George: Well, I, I couldn't come. I, I had to drive my mother to, to the chiropodist.
Wendy: [enters] What's the problem?
George: Are you aware that I'm being charged for Tuesday's appointment? I had to take my mother to the chiropodist.
Wendy: Well, I'm sorry, that's our policy. [exits]
George: Oh, you have a policy! The delicate genius has a policy!
Receptionist: So, will you be here tomorrow?
George: Well, it's less than twenty-four hours, so I guess I have to! [storms out]