Bradford Galt: Why don't you come over here, where you belong?
[Bradford pats the couch that he is laying on]
Kathleen: [Kathleen throws Bradford his mended suit jacket and proceeds to walk out Bradford's front door] Well, if you're feeling that much better, perhaps I better go home.
[scene fades]

Kathleen: But, remember I can get any new tough guy for a dime.
Bradford Galt: Here, get yourself two dozen.
[Bradford tosses two dimes at Kathleen across the table]
Kathleen: [Kathleen pushes them back towards Bradford] I rather pick you up at a rummage sale. I'm a sucker for bargains. Speaking of bargains, if you can't get those nylons in nine's, I'll take eight's or even ten's.
Bradford Galt: I'll make a note of it.

Kathleen: My father was a major-league umpire. Well, what else
[at the Tudor Penny Arcade]
Kathleen: can I beat you at?
Bradford Galt: What other kinds of games do you like to play? You know, we've got some great playgrounds up around 52nd Street.
Kathleen: Among them your apartment?
Bradford Galt: Why, just a coincidence.
Kathleen: I haven't worked for you very long, Mr. Galt, but I know when you're pitching a curve at me, and I always carry a catcher's mitt.
Bradford Galt: No offense. A guy's got to score, doesn't he?
Kathleen: Not in my league. I don't play for score, I play for keeps - "said she with a smile."

Kathleen: What's done to you is done to me.

Kathleen: You should have William Powell for a secretary.
Bradford Galt: William Powell... who's he?
Kathleen: Don't ya ever go to the movies? He's a detective, in "The Thin Man."

Hardy Cathcart: [whispering] Tell him you need two hundred dollars to leave town.
Stauffer, alias Fred Foss: [on the phone to Galt] I need two yards, powder money.

Hardy Cathcart: How I detest the dawn. The grass always looks like it's been left out all night.

Hardy Cathcart: I found the portrait long before I met Mari. And I worshipped it. When I did meet her, it was as if I'd always known her... and wanted her.
Woman in Gallery: Oh, how romantic.
Hardy Cathcart: If you prefer to be maudlin about it, perhaps.

Hardy Cathcart: Lovers of beauty never haggle over price, Tony.

Hardy Cathcart: Take, uh, Tony for instance. I'd never imagine him to be interested in... Lucy Wilding, but he is.
Mari Cathcart: It's not true! He's always loathed her.
Hardy Cathcart: He loathed her rather intimately, I'm afraid.