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Jerry: "You kept making all the stops?" Kramer: "Well, people kept ringing the bell!"

Jerry: “Six years I’ve had this t-shirt. It’s my best one. I call him: Golden Boy.”

George: “Just remember, it’s not a lie if you believe it.”

Jerry: “He took what out?” Elaine: “It.” Jerry: “He took It, Out?” Elaine: “Yessiree Bob.” Jerry: “He couldn’t.” Elaine: “He did.”

Jerry: “But are you still master of your domain?”

George: "You're sleeping with the maid?" Jerry: "Yes." George: "I've done that. Did you ever eat an ostrich burger?"

George: “I don’t think I’ve ever been to an appointment in my life where I wanted the other guy to show up.”

Jerry: “Well, it must be comforting to know you’ll be going straight to hell at no more than three miles per hour.”

Kramer: “You know what they say, ‘You don’t sell the steak, you sell the sizzle.’”

Elaine: “I don't know how you guys walk around with those things.”

Kramer: “It’s the Merv Griffin set.” Jerry: “How did you get this in here?” Kramer: “Oh, you just bring it in sideways and hook it.”

George: “I got him Yankee tickets, he got me a piece of paper saying I’ve given your gift to someone else.” Jerry: “To a children's charity.” George: “Don’t you see how wrong that is? Where's your Christmas spirit!? An eye for an eye!”

Kramer: “Hey! Happy Festivus, everyone!”

George: “Have you seen the new addition to the Guggenheim?” Lois: “You did that?” George: “Yep. And it didn’t take very long either.”

A donation has been made in your name to the Human Fund. The Human Fund. Money for people.

Jerry: “These balloons aren't going to stay filled ’til New Year’s.” Kramer: “Those aren’t for New Year's. Those are my everyday balloons.”

George: “What is Holland?” Jerry: “What do you mean, ‘what is it?’ It’s a country right next to Belgium.” George: “No, that’s the Netherlands.” Jerry: “Holland *is* the Netherlands.” George: “Then who are the Dutch?”

The Soup Nazi: "Come back one year. Next!"

Happy Festivus!

George: “This is gonna be my time. Time to taste the fruits and let the juices drip down my chin. I proclaim this: The Summer of George.”