Joyce Heath: [to Don] I should laugh at you, should I? But I can't help it. You were so awkward that I almost laughed in your face at first. And then it made me sick to think that anyone could be stupid enough to be taken in by old tricks. I thought you might at least be amusing, but you turned out to be dull, and stupid and so afraid. Well you needn't be? I won't hurt your Sunday school romance or your oh so nice career. Hurt me? Get out of here before you give me hysterics!

Joyce Heath: And just where DID I arrive, if I'm not asking you to betray a confidence?
Mrs. Williams: This is Mr. Bellows' place. He's an architect - one of them fellows that draws pictures.
Joyce Heath: Thank You. And I suppose you're Mrs. Bellows, or are you just one of his sketches?
Mrs. Williams: Nope. I'm his housekeeper, for when he comes down here weekends.
Joyce Heath: How cozy.

Joyce Heath: I am now humiliated to the point where I must thank you!

Joyce Heath: I'm bad for people. I don't mean to be, but I can't help myself.

Joyce Heath: It's either going to be your life or mine. If you're killed, I'll be free. If I'm killed it really doesn't matter. If we both die-good riddance!

Joyce Heath: You delight me! You have the most amazing lack of humor than anyone I've ever known!

Don Bellows: Restful here, isn't it?
Joyce Heath: The whole countryside seems to have found peace.
Don Bellows: A person could find peace too.
Joyce Heath: No, you'll only find that in yourself and when you do, you might as well be dead.
Don Bellows: Dead?
Joyce Heath: Rest In Peace is for tombstones.
Don Bellows: And for the living?
Joyce Heath: Desire. To want something. To obtain that desire and live up to every moment of it. And then go on leaving yesterday behind. On and on. Higher and higher.