Nellie Woods: [to Elliott] If you're lying, I'll kill you and go to the chair with a song on my lips.

Nellie Woods: Sorry I'm not what you were expecting.
Elliott Morgan, Publisher: What makes you think I'm expecting anybody?
Nellie Woods: What makes me think that dogs like liver?
Elliott Morgan, Publisher: I don't get the analogy, but I expect it's very clever. It so happens that you're wrong; there's no one coming.
Nellie Woods: You're right. She's gone out with her husband.
Elliott Morgan, Publisher: [feigning confusion] Uh. . .who has?
Nellie Woods: The liver.