George: I got a message from the Ross's at work today.
Jerry: Susan's parents? Whens the last time you talked to them?
George: At the funeral, give or take. You know, deep down, I always kinda felt that they blamed me for Susan's death.
Jerry: Why, because you picked out the poison envelopes? That's silly.
Mr. Ross: Where are we, George?
George: Almost there.
Mr. Ross: Well, this is the end of Long Island. Where's your house?
George: We, uh, we go on foot from here.
Mr. Ross: All right.
George: There's no house! It's a lie! There's no solarium. There's no Prickly Pete. There's no other solarium.
Mr. Ross: We know.
George: Then, why? Why did you make me drive all the way out here? Why didn't you say something? Why? Why? Why?
Mrs. Ross: We don't like you, George.
Mr. Ross: And we always blamed you for what happened to Susan.
Mr. Ross: Alright! Let's head back.
Jerry: Dad, I'm sorry.
Morty Seinfeld: You should be! How could you spend two hundred dollars on a tip calculator?!
Jerry: It does other things!