Design for Living (1933)
Max Plunkett: Do you love me?
Gilda Farrell: Oh, Max, people should not ask that question on their wedding night. It's either too late or too early.
Max Plunkett: Immorality may be fun, but it isn't fun enough to take the place of one hundred percent virtue and three square meals a day.
Gilda Farrell: A thing happened to me that usually happens to men. You see, a man can meet two, three or four women and fall in love with all of them, and then, by a process of interesting elimination, he is able to decide which he prefers. But a woman must decide purely on instinct, guesswork, if she wants to be considered nice.
Gilda Farrell: Boys, it's the only thing we can do. Let's forget sex.
Gilda Farrell: It's true we had a gentleman's agreement, but unfortunately, I am no gentleman.
Tom Chambers: That's one way of meeting the situation. Shipping clerk comes home, finds missus with boarder. He breaks dishes. It's pure burlesque. Then there's another way. Intelligent artist returns unexpectedly, finds treacherous friends, both discuss the pros and cons of the situation in grownup dialogue. High-class comedy, enjoyed by everybody.
George Curtis: There's a third way. I'll kick your teeth out and tear your head off and beat some decency into you!
Tom Chambers: Cheap melodrama. Very dull.
Max Plunkett: Mr. Curtis? What is your annual income, in round figures?
George Curtis: In round figures? Zero.
Max Plunkett: May I ask what you live on?
George Curtis: Nothing. I survive on miracles.
Max Plunkett: I've come here to speak to you man to man.
Tom Chambers: My favorite type of conversation.
Max Plunkett: I wish to broach a rather delicate subject.
Tom Chambers: Oh, now don't let's be delicate, Mr. Plunkett. Let's be crude and objectionable, both of us. One of the greatest handicaps of civilization, and I may say to progress, is that people speak with ribbons on their tongues. Delicacy, as the philosophers point out, is the banana peel under the feet of truth.
George Curtis: I haven't got a clean shirt to my name.
Tom Chambers: Why a clean shirt? What's up? A romance?
George Curtis: I'm not talking pajamas, just a clean shirt.
Tom Chambers: It's amazing how a few insults can bring people together in three hours.
Gilda Farrell: It was certainly good to hear all the names you called me. I haven't heard them since I left father and mother.
Gilda Farrell: You see, George, you're sort of like a ragged straw hat with a very soft lining. A little bit out of shape, very dashing to look at, and very comfortable to wear. And you, Tom, piquant, perched over one eye, and has to be watched on windy days. And both so becoming.
Tom Chambers: George betrayed me for you. Without wishing to flatter you, I understood that. I can still understand it. But you betrayed me for George. An incredible choice!
Gilda Farrell: I'm sick of being a trademark married to a slogan.
Gilda Farrell: Now listen, Plunkett, Incorporated. You go to those customers of yours and give 'em a sales talk. Sell them anything you want, but not me. I'm fed up with underwear, cement, linoleum, I'm sick of being a trademark married to a slogan!
Max Plunkett: Gilda...
Gilda Farrell: Don't you tell 'em I've got hiccups. Tell them I've got the advertising blues. The billboard collywobbles! Slogans and sales talks morning, noon, and night, and not one human sound out of you and your whole flock of Egelbaurs!
Max Plunkett: Gilda, I've been your friend for five years.
Gilda Farrell: And I want you to remain my friend for the next fifty years. So please shut up.
Gilda Farrell: Max, have you ever been in love?
Max Plunkett: This is no time to answer that.
Gilda Farrell: Have you ever felt your brain catch fire? And a curious grateful thing go through your body? Down, down to your very toes, and leave you with your ears ringing?
Max Plunkett: That's abnormal.
Gilda Farrell: Well, that's how I felt just before you came in.
Max Plunkett: Yeah? How'd you feel yesterday after your promenade with Tom?
Gilda Farrell: Just the opposite. It started in my toes, and came up, up, up very slowly till my brain caught fire. But the ringing in the ears was the same.
Gilda Farrell: We have to tell him the truth, no matter what happens to the furniture.
Tom Chambers: May I refer you to a letter, sent to you from London, in a similar crisis?
George Curtis: You're a very high class...
Tom Chambers: I could have enclosed some smallpox germs, easily.
George Curtis: But you didn't. Very considerate. Let's drink to that...
[proposing a toast]
George Curtis: To smallpox germs.
Tom Chambers: In Latin, variola caca.