Mary Anne: Wow, this is your office.
Mr. Steinbrenner: Whoa. Hello. Sorry George, didn't know you got a girl in here. Give me a signal on the doorknob like a necktie or a sock or something. Come on, help me out.
Mary Anne: Mr. Steinbrenner, I would like to thank you for taking a chance on a hen supervisor at Tyler Chicken like our boy George here.
Mr. Steinbrenner: Hen supervisor from Tyler Chicken?
George: Yes. Very nice to have had her to mention... [starts to leave]
Mr. Steinbrenner: Wait a minute, George.
George: Be right with you. Look Mr. Steinbrenner.
Mr. Steinbrenner: Moonlighting for Tyler Chicken. Pretty impressive, George. Days with the New York Yankees and nights in Arkansas with a top flight bird outlet. And a hen supervisor to boot. I am blown. Blown away. Blown, George. Blo....wn!

Mr. Steinbrenner: [on the phone] Don Tyler? George Steinbrenner here. I want to talk about George Costanza. I understand he's been dividing his time between us and you. I cannot have that.
Don Tyler: Well, I don't know who he is but if you want him that bad I'm not giving him up that easily.
Mr. Steinbrenner: Oh, is that so. Playing a little hardball, huh, Donnyboy?
Don Tyler: How about this? You give me Costanza, I convert your concessions to all chicken, no charge. Instead of hot dogs, chicken dogs. Instead of pretzels, chicken twists. Instead of beer, alcoholic chicken.
Mr. Steinbrenner: How do you make that alcoholic chicken?
Don Tyler: Let if ferment, just like everything else.
Mr. Steinbrenner: That stuff sounds great. All right. I'll have Costanza on the next bus.

Waitress: Hey, you looking for George?
Mary Anne: Yeah.
Waitress: He's been in the bathroom awhile. You might want to check on him.
[In the bathroom, George is standing about in his underwear, using a pay phone]
George: [on the phone] Jerry, you got to bring me some clothes down here. I lost my job with the Yankees. I'm standing in the men's room on 43rd street in my underpants.
Mary Anne: I told you this city would eat you alive.

Mr. Lippman: So, what is this guy again?
Elaine: They call him a Cleaner. He makes problems go away.
[A fancy car speeds down the road and parks badly by the side of the curb. Newman steps out, wearing sunglasses. He enters the store.]
Newman: Hello, Elaine.
Elaine: Where'd you get the car?
Newman: It's a rental. Where are they?
Elaine: In the back.
Newman: All right, I'm going to need a clean eight-ounce glass.
Mr. Lippman: What is going on here?
Newman: If I'm curt, then I apologize. But as I understand it, we have a situation here and time is of the essence.

George: All right. Let me ask you this. Do you know where Walker Street is downtown? I've got a league meeting there.
Jerry: Oh right, the new job, how is it?
George: I love it. New office, new salary. I'm the new Wilhelm.
Jerry: So who's the new you?
George: They got a new intern from Francis Louis High. His name is Keith. He comes in Mondays after school.

Jerry: Oh, hang on, just let me pick up a paper.
Man: Excuse me. Would you mind watching my bag for a minute?
George: Yeah. No problem.
Jerry: Let's go.
George: Whoa, I gotta watch this guy's bag.
Jerry: For how long?
George: I'm sure he'll be back in a second. [opens bag] Hmm. Nice stuff.
Jerry: Come on.
George: Excuse me, sir. Would you mind watching my bag for a second?
Man #2: Why? So I can stand here like an idiot not knowing if you'll ever come back?
[Jerry starts to leave]
George: Where are you going?
Jerry: I'm going to be this guy's friend.

Jerry: New clothes?
George: Yeah. I did some shopping. Some new clothes shopping. [to a man] Can I borrow your menu?
Jerry: Strange. For new pants, there's noticeable wear on the buttocks of those chinos. Wait, those are the clothes from the bag!
George: The guy never came back.
Jerry: He asked you to watch them not wear them.
George: I'm still watching them.
Jerry: You look like a tourist.

Elaine: Kramer, remember that whole deal with you selling Peterman your stories for his book and then he gave them back to you?
Kramer: Vaguely.
Elaine: Well, um, I was kind of [chuckles] short on material and I, um, I put them in the book anyway.
Kramer: You put my life's stories in his autobiography?
Elaine: Kramer listen, it is such a stupid book. It doesn't matter.
Kramer: No, no. Sure, it matters. Wow. I've broken through, huh? I'm part of popular culture now.

Elaine: Mr. Lippman, how are you?
Mr. Lippman: Well, I'm not bad. Not bad.
Elaine: What are you doing here?
Mr. Lippman: I work for Pendant Publishing. This is our book.
Elaine: Oh.
Mr. Lippman: If you can call it that. Why is it every half-wit and sitcom star has his own book out now?

Kramer: Hey, buddy. Remember me?
J. Peterman: You're that gangly fellow we bought the stories from.
Kramer: Yeah, I'm just here to do my part. What's your name darling?
Woman: Who are you?
Kramer: Oh, I'm the - Let me use your pen, will you? - I'm the real Peterman.
J. Peterman: All right, playtime's over.
Kramer: Relax, man. There's enough juice here to keep us all fat and giggly.