Henry Tyroon: You don't go wheelin' 'n' dealin' for money. You do it for fun. Money's just the way you keep score.

Molly Thatcher: I don't understand. How can you buy something when you don't even know what it is?
Ray Jay: Well, you see, ma'am, Henry here is a real wheeler dealer. And a wheeler dealer is somebody that loves to find places for money to go. It's like hitchin' on to a star. You may zoom up to the sky on a mighty pretty ride.
Molly Thatcher: And if the star falls?
Henry Tyroon: Well, then I find some way for the, uh, government to take three-quarters of the loss.
Jay Ray: You see, Miss Thatcher, that's the mark of a REAL wheeler dealer.

Molly Thatcher: Now, why do you suppose Mr. Bear wants me to fight off a large Texan?
Eloise Cott: You think he's got more than business on his mind?
Molly Thatcher: Every man has sex on the brain, like it's some sort of wonder drug... a cure-all for everything: colds, pleurisy, arthritis. I even had a guy once tell me that sex prevents cavities.
Eloise Cott: Cavities? In your teeth?
Molly Thatcher: Sure. When you're tense, you have more acids in your mouth; and acids eat enamel. When you get rid of the tension, you get rid of the acids. And the best way to get rid of tension...
Eloise Cott: Don't tell me! let me guess.

[Henry is complaing about how hard it is to get a cab in New York]
Feinberg, Taxi Driver: You're just like my wife, mister. You don't understand the economics of the situation.
Henry Tyroon: Then teach me. I'm interested in the economics of about every situation.
Feinberg, Taxi Driver: Well, there are 11,000 cabs in the city - and no new permits for the next twenty-five years. Now suppose you wanna buy a cab and start hackin'... you gotta get a new permit, too. Now the tab on a new permit is eighteen thousand five hundred on the open market.
Henry Tyroon: And how much did your cab cost, Mister
[looks at driver's ID]
Henry Tyroon: Feinberg?
Feinberg, Taxi Driver: Thirty-three hundred... new.
Henry Tyroon: Mm-hmm. Then that makes your investment, uh, with the permit, come to about $22,000.
Feinberg, Taxi Driver: Yeah. But don't tell my wife... she'll think I'm rich.
Henry Tyroon: Mm-hmm. Mr. Feinberg, I'll give you $24,000 for your cab and permit.
Feinberg, Taxi Driver: You wanna buy the cab?
Henry Tyroon: Right. But you come along with it. I'll need your services for a week, maybe two.
Feinberg, Taxi Driver: No, look, mister, I can't sell the cab. I need it.
Henry Tyroon: Well, I figured that. So, when I leave I'll sell it back to you for... $22,000.
Feinberg, Taxi Driver: You wanna lose two grand just to keep your feet dry when it starts to rain?
Henry Tyroon: I don't lose, Mr. Feinberg. See, I borrow the money and then I get a deduction on the loan interest and another on the depreciation and another on the loss when I sell it back to you. And you make a nice profit.
Feinberg, Taxi Driver: You win and I win. Uh-uh, there's gotta be a loser somewhere.
Henry Tyroon: Taxman loses. He usually does on a Henry Tyroon deal.
Feinberg, Taxi Driver: Mister, you've just got yourself a taxi.

[Henry's latest oilwell has come in a "duster"]
Billy Joe: Well, you can't sell dust, Henry. So you better hightail it up to the big city and get yourself some shoppin' money quick. Yes.
Billy Joe: Billy Joe, is money all you ever think about?
Billy Joe: Henry, I am an accountant. I'm supposed to think about money. So you go on up north and raise one million two startin' right now, or you're broke. Yes. Henry, you're a rich man... and a rich man can't afford to go broke.

[in his office, Bear is telling Whitby to fire Molly to save money - she gets up from her desk]
Bullard Bear: Where is she going?
Whitby: Her lunch club, I think.
Bullard Bear: Women shouldn't be allowed to have lunch clubs. We gotta keep 'em off-balance, disorganized, clawing and scratching at each other. Otherwise they might turn on us like mad dogs!

[the judge is reading the long list of charges brought against Henry Tyroon et al]
Judge: Mr. Vanson, this indictment seems to be a little enthusiastic!
Hector Vanson: Well, they're a pretty slippery bunch, your honor. I had to throw the book at 'em.

[they have discovered that Universal Widgets has no factory, but Molly is still supposed to sell their stock and Henry says he'll help her]
Molly Thatcher: Henry, you're an operator; but do you know anything about the stock market?
Henry Tyroon: Well, I know the stock market is money and emotion. There's hope when you start out, greed on the way up, fear on the way down. I know that, uh, the stock market is people... and if there's anything you can't sell people, I've yet to find out what it is. These people need a reason to buy. The beauty of it is: the reason doesn't have to make sense.
Molly Thatcher: You're not thinking of anything illegal are you?
Henry Tyroon: I'm never illegal. I'm just close to it.