The content of this page was created by users. It has not been screened or verified by IMDb staff.
: Bill's thirty-two. He looks thirty-two. He looked it five years ago, he'll look it twenty years from now. I hate men.
: Funny business, a woman's career - the things you drop on your way up the ladder so you can move faster. You forget you'll need them again when you get back to being a woman. That's one career all females have in common, whether we like it or not: being a woman. Sooner or later, we've got to work at it, no matter how many other careers we've had or wanted. And in the last analysis, nothing's any good unless you can look up just before dinner or turn around in bed, and there he is. Without that, you're not a woman. You're something with a French provincial office or a book full of clippings, but you're not a woman. Slow curtain, the end.
: Fasten your seatbelts, it's going to be a bumpy night!
: I'll admit I may have seen better days, but I'm still not to be had for the price of a cocktail, like a salted peanut.
: How about calling it a night? Margo Channing
: And you pose as a playwright? A situation pregnant with possibilities and all you can think of is everybody go to sleep.
: Have you no human consideration? Margo Channing
: Show me a human, and I might have!
: Heartburn? It's that Miss Caswell. I don't see why she hasn't given Addison heartburn. Bill Sampson
: No heart to burn! Margo Channing
: Everybody has a heart - except some people.
: I detest cheap sentiment.
: A Hollywood movie star just arrived. Margo Channing
: Shucks, and I sent my autograph book to the cleaner.
: We have to go to City Hall for the marriage license and blood test. Margo Channing
: I'd marry you if it turned out you had no blood at all.
: Heaven help me. I love a psychotic!
: Nice speech, Eve. But I wouldn't worry too much about your heart. You can always put that award where your heart ought to be.
: I shall never understand the weird process by which a body with a voice suddenly fancies itself as a mind. Just when exactly does an actress decide they're HER words she's speaking and HER thoughts she's expressing? Margo Channing
: Usually at the point where she has to rewrite and rethink them, to keep the audience from leaving the theatre!
: What makes you think either Miller or Sherwood would stand for the nonsense I take from you? You'd better stick to Beaumont and Fletcher! They've been dead for three hundred years! Margo Channing
: ALL playwrights should be dead for three hundred years!
: There comes a time that a piano realizes that it has not written a concerto. Margo Channing
: And you, I take it, are the Paderewski who plays his concerto on me, the piano?
: I'm a junkyard.
: So many people know me. I wish I did. I wish someone would tell me about me. Karen Richards
: You're Margo, just Margo. Margo Channing
: And what is that, besides something spelled out in light bulbs, I mean - besides something called a temperament, which consists mostly of swooping about on a broomstick and screaming at the top of my voice? Infants behave the way I do, you know. They carry on and misbehave - they'd get drunk if they knew how - when they can't have what they want, when they feel unwanted or insecure or unloved.
: You bought the new girdles a size smaller, I can feel it. Birdie
: Something maybe grew a size larger. Margo Channing
: When we get home you're going to get into one of those girdles and act for two and a half hours. Birdie
: I couldn't get into the girdle in two and a half hours.
: Don't get up. And please stop acting as if I were the queen mother. Eve Harrington
: I'm sorry, I...
: Outside of a bee hive Margo, your beahvior would not be considered either Queenly or Motherly. Margo Channing
: You are in a beehive, pal. Didn't you know? We are all busy little bees, full of stings, making honey day and night. Aren't we honey?
: You've been talking to that venomous fishwife Addison DeWitt! Margo Channing
: In this case, apparently as trustworthy as the World Almanac!
: You have every reason for happiness. Margo Channing
: Except happiness!
: You know, there isn't a playwright in the world who could make me believe this would happen between two adult people. Goodbye, Margo. Margo Channing
: Bill? Where are you going? To find Eve? Bill Sampson
: That suddenly makes the whole thing believable.
: I start shooting a week from Monday. Zanuck is impatient. He wants me, he needs me. Margo Channing
: Zanuck, Zanuck, Zanuck. What are you two, lovers?
: I understand that your understudy, Miss Harrington, has given her notice. Margo Channing
: Too bad. Bill Sampson
: I'm broken up about it.
: [in front of her boyfriend, Bill
] I love you, Max. I really mean it. I love you. Come to the pantry.
] Max Fabian
: [to Bill
] She loves me like a father. Also, she's loaded.
: I distinctly remember, Addison, crossing you off of my guest list. What are you doing here? Addison DeWitt
: Dear Margo, you were an unforgettable Peter Pan. You must play it again soon. You remember Miss Caswell. Margo Channing
: I do not. How do you do? Claudia Caswell
: We've never met. Maybe that's why? Addison DeWitt
: Miss Casswell is an actress, a graduate of the Copacabana School of the Dramatic Arts.
] Addison DeWitt
: Ah Eve. Eve Harrington
: Good evening Mr. DeWitt. Margo Channing
: I'd no idea you two knew each other. Addison DeWitt
: This must be at long last our formal introduction. Until now we've only met in passing. Claudia Caswell
: That's how you met me... in passing. Margo Channing
: Eve, this is an old friend of Mr. DeWitt's mother. Miss Caswell, Miss Harrington. Eve Harrington
: Miss Caswell. Claudia Caswell
: How do you do? Margo Channing
: Addison, I've been waiting for you to meet Eve for the longest time. Addison DeWitt
: It could only have been your natural timidity that kept you from mentioning it. Margo Channing
: You've heard of her great interest in the theater. Addison DeWitt
: We have that in common. Margo Channing
: Then you two must have a long talk. Eve Harrington
: I'm afraid Mr. DeWitt would find me boring. Claudia Caswell
: You won't bore him long, you won't get a chance to talk. Addison DeWitt
: Claudia, come here
[takes her aside
] Addison DeWitt
: . You see that man, that's Max Fabian, the producer. Now go do yourself some good. Claudia Caswell
: Why do they always look like unhappy rabbits? Addison DeWitt
: Because that's what they are
[taking her coat
] Addison DeWitt
: , now go and make him happy.
[Goes back to Margo and drapes the coat over her arm
] Addison DeWitt
: Now don't worry about your little charge, she'll be in safe hands.
[Walks off with Eve
] Margo Channing
: [Watches them go, then lifts her martini
: Birdie, you don't like Eve, do you? Birdie
: You looking for an answer or an argument? Margo Channing
: An answer. Birdie
: No. Margo Channing
: Why not? Birdie
: Now you want an argument.
: Lloyd, honey, be a playwright with guts. Write me one about a nice normal woman who just shoots her husband.
: As it happens, there are particular aspects of my life to which I would like to maintain sole and exclusive rights and privileges. Bill Sampson
: For instance what? Margo Channing
: For instance: you!
: You're not much of a bargain, you know. You're conceited and thoughtless and messy.
: [to Bill
] You be the host. It's your party. Happy birthday, welcome home, and we who are about to die salute you.
: You knew when you came in that the audition was over, that Eve was your understudy, playing that childish little game of cat and mouse. Margo Channing
: Not mouse, never mouse. If anything *rat*!
[Margo is getting drunk at the party
] Bill Sampson
: Many of your guests have been wondering when they may be permitted to view the body. Where has it been laid out? Margo Channing
: It hasn't been laid out, we haven't finished with the embalming. As a matter of fact, you're looking at it - the remains of Margo Channing, sitting up. It is my last wish to be buried sitting up.
: There's a message from the bartender. Does Miss Channing know she ordered domestic gin by mistake? Margo Channing
: The only thing I ordered by mistake is the guests. They're domestic, too, and they don't care what they drink as long as it burns!
: Peace and quiet is for libraries!
: She thinks only of me, doesn't she? Birdie
: Well, let's say she thinks only about you, anyway. Margo Channing
: How do you mean that? Birdie
: I'll tell you how: like... like she's studying you, like you was a play or a book or a set of blueprints - how you walk, talk, eat, think, sleep... Margo Channing
: I'm sure that's very flattering, Birdie. I'm sure there's nothing wrong with it.
: [to Eve
] "Don't let it worry you", said the camera man, "Even De Mille couldn't see anything looking through the wrong end!" So that was the first and last... Margo Channing
] Don't let me kill the point. Or isn't it a story for grownups? Bill Sampson
: You've heard it - about the time I looked into the wrong end of the camera finder. Margo Channing
: Remind me to tell you about the time I looked into the heart of an artichoke. Eve Harrington
: I'd like to hear it. Margo Channing
: Some snowy night, in front of the fire.
: This is my cue to take you in my arms and reassure you. But I'm not going to - I'm too mad. Margo Channing
: Guilty! Bill Sampson
: Mad! Darling, there are certain characteristics for which you are famous, on stage and off. I love you for some of them, in spite of others. I haven't let those become too important. They're part of your equipment for getting along in what is laughingly called our environment. You have to keep your teeth sharp - all right - but I will not have you sharpen them on me, or on Eve! Margo Channing
: What about her teeth? What about her fangs? Bill Sampson
: She hasn't cut them yet, and you know it! So when you start judging an idealistic, dreamy-eyed kid by the barroom Benzedrine standards of this megalomaniac society, I won't have it! Eve Harrington has never, by word, look, thought, or suggestion indicated anything to me but her adoration for you and her happiness at our being in love. And to intimate anything else doesn't spell jealousy to me - it spells a paranoiac insecurity that you should be ashamed of! Margo Channing
: Cut! Print it! What happens in the next reel? Do I get dragged off screaming to the snake pits?
: Thank you, Eve. I'd like a martini, very dry. Bill Sampson
: I'll get it.
] Bill Sampson
: What'll you have? Margo Channing
: A milkshake? Eve Harrington
: A martini, very dry, please.
: Margo Channing is ageless - spoken like a press agent. Lloyd Richards
: I know what I'm talking about. After all, they're my plays. Margo Channing
: Spoken like an author. Lloyd, I'm not twenty-ish, I'm not thirty-ish. Three months ago I was forty years old. Forty. Four O. That slipped out. I hadn't quite made up my mind to admit it. Now I suddenly feel as if I've taken all my clothes off.
: Looks like I'm going to have a very fancy party... Margo Channing
: I thought you were going to be late. Bill Sampson
: When I'm guest of honor? Margo Channing
: I had no idea you were even here. Bill Sampson
: I ran into Eve on my way upstairs; she told me you were dressing. Margo Channing
: That never stopped you before. Bill Sampson
: Well, we started talking, she wanted to know all about Hollywood, she seemed so interested... Margo Channing
: She's a girl of so many interests. Bill Sampson
: It's a pretty rare quality these days. Margo Channing
: She's a girl of so many rare qualities. Bill Sampson
: So she seems. Margo Channing
: So you've pointed out, so often. So many qualities, so often. Her loyalty, efficiency, devotion, warmth, affection - and so young. So young and so fair...
: I'll admit I may have seen better days, but I'm still not to be had for the price of a cocktail like a salted peanut.
: Bill's welcome home birthday party might go down in history. Even before the party started, I could smell disaster in the air. I knew it, I sensed it, even as I finished dressing for the blasted party.
: Why so remote Addison? I should think you'd be at your protégé's side lending her moral support. Addison DeWitt
: Miss Caswell at the moment is where I can lend no support, moral or otherwise. Margo Channing
: In the lady's, shall we say, lounge? Addison DeWitt
: ...being violently ill to her tummy.
: I haven't got a union. I'm slave labor. Margo Channing
: Well? Birdie
: But the wardrobe women have got one, and next to a tenor, a wardrobe woman is the touchiest thing in show business.
: Where is Princess... fire and music?
: I'm sorry, Margo. Margo Channing
: What for? It isn't as though you personally drained the gas tank yourself.