I don't think my parents liked me. They put a live teddy bear in my crib.

You know . . . a lot of kids at school hate their parents. Some of them got hit. And some of them got caught in the middle of wrong lives. Some of them were trophies for their parents to show the neighbors like ribbons or gold stars. And some of them just wanted to drink in peace.

...my family despised Faberge objects as emblems of grotesque garishness.

Gentlemen, my father always detested me because I could not understand mathematics. I understand only love and liberty.

If you hate your parents, the man or the establishment, don't show them up by getting wasted and wrapping your car around a tree. If you really want to rebel against your parents, out-learn them, outlive them, and know more than they do.

What did I do? I read books and studied. I listened to my parents and did what they asked me to. Even though, in the end, I never made them happy. I didn’t like myself, and something told me I’d end up alone.

Who taught you to hate yourself?

I grew to resent the way my father treated his furniture like children, and his children like furniture.

The first half of our lives are ruined by our parents and the second half by our children.

Yeah, my parents are crappy, but you hurt either of my sisters and I will spend my life finding ways to destroy you.

His strongest tastes were negative. He abhorred plastics, Picasso, sunbathing, and jazz — everything in fact that had happened in his own lifetime. The tiny kindling of charity which came to him through his religion sufficed only to temper his disgust and change it to boredom. . . .

When I was a kid, I got no respect. I told my mother I’m gonna run away from home. She said, “On your mark…

I was an ugly kid. My mother breast-fed me through a straw.

Elaine: Ugh, I hate people.
Jerry: Yeah, they're the worst.