The content of this page was created by users. It has not been screened or verified by IMDb staff.
: He wants the pulsing life story of this Lily Garland trumpeted through the press by tomorrow morning. Where is the little baggage?
: Sadie, get me a bottle of gin. I've only got an hour to live. Sadie, Lily's maid
: I wish that were true.
: He's going to end up in the breadline unless he finds out that these jittery horse operas with a lot of people staggering around in foul iron suits ain't entertainment. Oliver Webb
: Where did you leave Jaffe? Owen O'Malley
: At the Morrison Hotel under the name of Hemingway, which he's adopted in his grief.
: [referring to a policeman
] This demigod thinks he's in darkest Russia.
: I don't know whether you realize it or not, Owen, but I've always had a terrific influence with her. Owen O'Malley
: Me too. Once I actually compelled her to admit it looked like rain.
Lily Garland, aka Mildred Plotka
: Is Oscar Jaffe on this train? You'd better tell me. Owen O'Malley
: Right in there. The Little Corporal is returning from another Moscow, his head bloodied but still unbowed.
: Owen, something tells me you're not educated enough for this sort of thing. I'll have to hire some professor. Owen O'Malley
: Save your dough, sire. I yield the lamp of learning to no one.
: What are you talking about? That's not a contract - it's a coronation. Barrels of rubies, enormous carpets for your pretty feet, pearl and onyx bathrubs, slews of myrmidons at your beck and call... Come on, sign it now while the sap is flowing.
: O.J., I'm in no mood for a lot of fuzzy lamentations.