Dwight K. Schrute: For several weeks, my Secret Santa has been giving me pieces of a machine that I've been attempting to assemble. I'm suspicious of this because I had the exact same idea for catching Osama bin Laden. I would simply send him a different piece each day. He would assemble it to find himself... in jail!

Michael Scott: If this were Russia, yeah sure. Everyone would go to one Santa, and there would be a line around the block and once you sat on her lap and she'd ask you what you wanted, you would say, probably, "freedom." At which point the KGB would arrest you and send you to Siberia. It's a good thing Russia doesn't exist anymore.

Michael Scott: Dwight, come here. Here's my debit card, I want you to go pick up a bunch of pizzas and meet me in the conference room.
Dwight K. Schrute: What's your pin number?
Michael Scott: I don't want to say. But, "it's fun to stay at the..." "It's fun to stay at the..."
Dwight K. Schrute: Where? Holiday Inn? I don't...
Michael Scott: [hums Y.M.C.A. song]

Michael Scott: Earlier today this office needed a Santa. And then it needed a second Santa. And then it needed a Jesus. And now, it needs a Michael. And that's one suit Phyllis cannot fit into.

Pam: So, Santa, what can we expect from this party?
Phyllis: It's going to be a very jolly time if you've been good!
Creed: What if you've been bad?
Phyllis: Oh then nothing but a lump of coal for you!
Creed: What if you've been really, really bad? More evil, and strictly wrong?
Jim: Hey, Creed, we covered it. Lump of coal!

Dwight K. Schrute: My diabolical plot is on hold for Christmas. My heart just melts with the sound of children singing. Hmph! [laughs] Not really! I'm just tired. The days are short. I don't know. Maybe I'm depressed.

Michael Scott: I'll call him. I'll call David.
Jim: No, you won't, because he's not picking up his phone.
Michael Scott: Yes, I will. Because I always know how to get through to him.
[aside to camera:]
Michael Scott: He told me where his kids go to school. I call the school, I tell them I'm a pediatrician. They patch me through to his secretary. I use my little girl voice. Badda bing, badda boom.

Stanley: We're supposed to applaud you for taking a giant diaper off fake tree?
Dwight K. Schrute: This was a successful unveiling! Go back to work! Merry Christmas!

Erin: Hello. Sorry guys. Sorry guys. I'm not sure I've earned the right to make announcements yet. But whoever is giving me the Twelve Days of Christmas as my Secret Santa? Please stop. I can't take it anymore. My cat killed a turtledove; the French hens have started pulling out my hair to make a nest. Please. Stop.
Kelly: What psycho would send that as a gift?
[aside to camera:]
Andy: I begged Dwight and Jim to give me Erin for Secret Santa. And I decided to give Erin the Twelve days of Christmas. Is it my fault that the first eight days is basically thirty birds?

Phyllis: Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas boys and girls! It's me, Santa Claus!
Dwight K. Schrute: Hey Santa!
Oscar: They finally let you do it!
Phyllis: Yeah!
Kevin: Congrats Phil!
Erin: It's so edgy!
[aside to camera:]
Phyllis: I have been wanting to be Santa for years. I believe I have the right temperament, and the figure to do the job well. I slipped a note to Jim eleven weeks ago, and he said I could do it. [laughs] Oh, it's been a long journey, but [sniffles] I'm Santa Claus!