David Larrabee: Morning, Linus. Where are you off to?
Linus Larrabee: The office. Where do you think?
David Larrabee: The office? On Sunday?
Linus Larrabee: Today is Wednesday.
David Larrabee: Wednesday?

David Larrabee: There's just one thing you overlooked. I haven't proposed and she hasn't accepted.
Linus Larrabee: Oh don't worry. I proposed and Mr.Tyson accepted.
David Larrabee: Did you kiss him?

David Larrabee: What makes you so sure Sabrina still wants me?
Linus Larrabee: Of course she wants you. She's wanted you all her life!
David Larrabee: Until you came along in that silly homburg.
Linus Larrabee: Why don't you straighten that silly straw hat and on your way. You'll miss the boat.
David Larrabee: Don't worry. I won't miss the boat.
[starts walking towards the door]
David Larrabee: Funniest thing. Linus Larrabee, the man who doesn't burn, doesn't scorch, doesn't melt... suddenly throws a twenty million dollar deal out the window.
[stops at the door]
David Larrabee: Are you sure *you* don't want to go with her?
Linus Larrabee: Why should I want to go with her?
David Larrabee: Because you're in love with her.

David Larrabee: You don't live here!
Sabrina: Yes, I do.
David Larrabee: I live here!
Sabrina: Hi, neighbor.

The Professor: [inspecting the students' soufflés] Too low. Too pale. Too heavy. Too low. Too *high*, you are exaggerating. Fair. So-so. Sloppy.
[he gets to the Baron]
The Professor: Mm. Superb. Mon Dieu, Baron, you have not lost your touch...
[he looks at Sabrina's]
The Professor: Much too low.
Sabrina Fairchild: [looking at her soufflé] I don't know what happened.
Baron St. Fontanel: I will tell you what happened: you forgot to turn on the oven.
Sabrina Fairchild: Oh!

Thomas Fairchild: [reading a letter from Sabrina] ... I decided to be sensible the other day and tore up David's picture. Could you please airmail me some Scotch tape?

Thomas Fairchild: [reading aloud a letter from Sabrina] He came to the cooking school to take a refresher course in soufflés and liked me so much he decided to stay on for the fish.

Thomas Fairchild: Democracy can be a wickedly unfair thing Sabrina. Nobody poor was ever called democratic for marrying somebody rich.

Thomas Fairchild: He's still David Larrabee, and you're still the chauffeur's daughter. And you're still reaching for the moon.
Sabrina Fairchild: No, father. The moon is reaching for me.

Thomas Fairchild: I like to think of life as a limousine. Though we are all riding together we must remember our places. There is a front seat and a back seat and a window in between.
Linus Larrabee: Fairchild, I never realized it before, but you're a terrible snob.
Thomas Fairchild: Yes sir.