Max Plunkett: Do you love me?
Gilda Farrell: Oh, Max, people should not ask that question on their wedding night. It's either too late or too early.

Max Plunkett: Gilda, I've been your friend for five years.
Gilda Farrell: And I want you to remain my friend for the next fifty years. So please shut up.

Max Plunkett: Immorality may be fun, but it isn't fun enough to take the place of one hundred percent virtue and three square meals a day.

Max Plunkett: Mr. Curtis? What is your annual income, in round figures?
George Curtis: In round figures? Zero.
Max Plunkett: May I ask what you live on?
George Curtis: Nothing. I survive on miracles.

Max Plunkett: What are you doing here?
George Curtis: At the moment, I'm leaving.

Gilda Farrell: A thing happened to me that usually happens to men. You see, a man can meet two, three or four women and fall in love with all of them, and then, by a process of interesting elimination, he is able to decide which he prefers. But a woman must decide purely on instinct, guesswork, if she wants to be considered nice.

Gilda Farrell: Boys, it's the only thing we can do. Let's forget sex.

Gilda Farrell: I'm sick of being a trademark married to a slogan.

Gilda Farrell: It's true we had a gentleman's agreement, but unfortunately, I am no gentleman.

Gilda Farrell: Now listen, Plunkett, Incorporated. You go to those customers of yours and give 'em a sales talk. Sell them anything you want, but not me. I'm fed up with underwear, cement, linoleum, I'm sick of being a trademark married to a slogan!
Max Plunkett: Gilda...
Gilda Farrell: Don't you tell 'em I've got hiccups. Tell them I've got the advertising blues. The billboard collywobbles! Slogans and sales talks morning, noon, and night, and not one human sound out of you and your whole flock of Egelbaurs!