Harry: Well, Officer Don, we're here to report a crime.
Sally: I blame myself. I dropped my guard.
Don: It's not your fault. Crime happens. On the surface, Rutherford may look like small town America, but just beneath the well-manicured lawns lies a hotbed of criminal activity. We may be in the shadow of Cleveland, but it's in the shadows where evil lurks.

Don: Mary, this a composite sketch of your assailant, based on all the eyewitness accounts.
Mary: Why is his head so big? Why is he holding a tennis racquet?
Don: Well, the department can't afford a full-time sketch artist, so we had the caricature guy from the birthday party do it.
Sally: He also did a great one of Don as a cowboy.
Don: Yeah.

Sally: Hey, guys. Oh, you still watching that stuff?
Dick: It's not "stuff," it's Hamlet.
Sally: Yeah, but why do they have to talk that way? I mean, I can't follow the story.
Don: Hamlet? The story is as old as time. Pretty-boy son has a rich daddy and a good-looking mommy. The uncle knocks off daddy, marries mommy, and he cuts pretty boy out of the action. So junior goes crazy and he kills them all. Not a pretty story, but there it is.
Tommy: Isn't that the plot to The Lion King?
Dick: Oh, please!

George: Let me ask you something. What do you do for a living, Newman?
Newman: I'm a United States postal worker.
George: Aren't those the guys that always go crazy and come back with a gun and shoot everybody?
Newman: Sometimes.
Jerry: Why is that?
Newman: Because the mail never stops. It just keeps coming and coming and coming, there's never a let-up. It's relentless. Every day it piles up more and more and more, and you gotta get it out but the more you get it out the more it keeps coming in. And then the bar code reader breaks and it's Publisher's Clearing House day!

Newman: Well, you've both presented very convincing arguments. On the one hand, Elaine, your promise was given in haste. But was it not still a promise? Hmm? And, Kramer, you did provide a service in exchange for compensation. But, does the fee, once paid, not entitle the buyer to some assurance Of reliability? Hmm? Huh? Ah. These were not easy questions to answer. Not for any man. But I have made a decision. We will... cut the bike down the middle, and give half to each of you.
Elaine: What?! This is your solution?! To ruin the bike?! All right, fine. Fine. Go ahead. [stands up] Cut the stupid thing in half.
Kramer: No, no, no. Give it to her. I'd rather it belonged to another than see it destroyed. Newman, give it to her, I beg you.
Elaine: Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Newman: Not so fast, Elaine! Only the bike's true owner would rather give it away than see it come to harm. Kramer, the bike is yours!

Newman: Hello, Jerry.
Jerry: Hello, Newman. What gives?
Newman: I was speaking earlier with Kramer and he mentioned something about a private jet to Paris?
Jerry: Yeah, that's right.
Newman: Well, I hear it's quite beautiful there this time of year, and of course you know I'm one-quarter French.
Jerry: Really?
Newman: Oh, yes. In fact, I still have family there. This probably won't interest you, but I have a cousin there who's suffering very badly. She's lost all use of her muscles. She can only communicate by blinking. I would so love to see her, bring a ray of sunshine into her tragic life. But alas, I can't afford it, for I am, as you know, but a simple postal worker.
Jerry: That's a shame.
Newman: Take me! Take me!
Jerry: Oh, forget it. Pull yourself together. You're making me sick. Be a man!
Newman: All right! But hear me and hear me well. The day will come. Oh, yes. Mark my words, Seinfeld. Your day of reckoning is coming. When an evil wind will blow through your little play world, and wipe that smug smile off your face. And I'll be there, in all my glory, watching. Watching as it all comes crumbling down. [evil laugh]