Murray: You might call Nick a bastard... or a little bastard, depending on how whimsical you feel at the time.
Leo: There's the little guy. I've got a Chuckles statue for you.
Nick: Thank you, Mr. Herman. Imagine how pleased I am to receive it.
Murray: Irving R. Feldman's birthday is my own personal national holiday. I did not open it up for the public. He is proprietor of perhaps the most distinguished kosher delicatessen in our neighborhood, and, as such, I hold the day of his birth in reverence.
Nick: My simple child reaction of what you did is that you are not funny. Funnier than you is even Stuart Schlossman, who is my friend, and is eleven, and puts walnuts in his mouth and makes noises. What is not funny is to call us names, and what is mostly not funny is how sad you are, and I'd feel sorry for you if it wasn't for how dull you are. And those are the worst-tasting potato chips that I've ever tasted. And that's my opinion from the blue, blue sky.
Murray: You didn't answer my question. Would you like to visit the Empire State Building?
Sandra: No, not really.
Murray: Well, then how about the zoo?
Sandra: Not just now.
Murray: Well, then will you marry me?
Sandra: What?
Murray: Just a bit of shock treatment there. I have found after long experience that it's the quickest way to get a woman's attention when her mind wanders. Always works.
