His Niece: We're falling 2,000 feet!
The Great Man: It's all right, dear. Don't start worrying 'til we get down 1,999. The last foot is dangerous.
Waitress: And another thing. Don't be so free with your hands.
The Great Man: Listen, honey. I was only trying to guess your weight. You take things too seriously.
The Great Man: I didn't squawk about the steak, dear. I merely said I didn't see that old horse that used to be tethered outside here.
Waitress: You're as funny as a cry for help.
The Great Man: You're about to fall heir to a kitten's stocking.
Heckler: What's a kitten's stocking?
The Great Man: A sock on the puss.
The Great Man: How'd you like to hide the egg and gurgitate a few saucers of mocha java?
Receptionist: Some day you'll drown in a vat of whiskey!
The Great Man: Drown in a vat of whiskey. Death, where is thy sting?
The Great Man: [Suffering from a hangover] Somebody put too many olives in my martini last night!
Stewardess: Should I get you a Bromo?
The Great Man: No, I couldn't stand the noise!
The Great Man: [Discussing his proposed script] In a circus scene you wear a beard.
The Producer's Wife, Mrs. Pangborn: I wear a beard?
The Great Man: Yeah, a small beard - a van dyke. Just a little... You know what a van dyke is, don't you?
The Producer's Wife, Mrs. Pangborn: I certainly do!
The Great Man: Ooh.
The Great Man: Do you want to grow up and be dumb like Zasu Pitts?
The Great Man: Oh, for a Maxwell parachute!
Ouliotta Delight Hemogloben: What's a Maxwell parachute?
The Great Man: Good until the last drop, dear.
Waitress: [to the Great Man] You're as funny as a cry for help! You also pulled that old gag about breaking your fork in the gravy!
The Great Man: [Sitting at a luncheonette table] I don't know why I ever come in here. Flies get the best of everything!
Huge Turk: I didn't sleep well last night.
The Great Man: You didn't, eh?
Huge Turk: I'm troubled with insomnia.
The Great Man: Oh, insomnia! Ah, well, I know a good cure for it.
Huge Turk: Yeah?
The Great Man: Get plenty of sleep.
Huge Turk: Sleep, unh?
The Great Man: That's what a doctor told me, heh, heh.
Waitress: You know, there's something awfully big about you.
The Great Man: Hunh-huh. Thank you, dear, thank you, dear, thaank...
Waitress: [Interrupting] Your nose!
Waitress: [after she turns her back to him, he stares at her derriere] Something awfully big about you too!
His Niece: Why didn't you ever marry?
The Great Man: I was in love with a beautiful blonde once, dear. She drove me to drink. That's the one thing I'm indebted to her for.
The Producer: This script is an insult to a man's intelligence. Even mine.
The Great Man: Suffering sciatica! Last time is was pink elephants.
The Great Man: [in the soda fountain] I feel as though somebody stepped on my tongue with muddy feet.
[to the camera]
The Great Man: This scene's supposed to be in a saloon but the censor cut it out. It'll play just as well this way.
Motorcycle Cop: Where do you think you're going, to a fire?
The Great Man: Ah... Ah... maternity hospital.
Motorcycle Cop: Okay, Tomato-Puss, follow me.
His Niece: [as things turn into chaos, at Fields' instigation, shaking her head] My uncle Bill...
His Niece: But I still love him!
Ouliotta Delight Hemogloben: Do you think he drinks?
Mrs. Hemogloben: He didn't get that nose from playing ping-pong.
Ouliotta Delight Hemogloben: Are you really a man?
The Great Man: Well, I've been called other things...
The Great Man: Have, uh, you any imported cigars?
Waitress: 'Stingeroos', four for a nickel.
The Great Man: Oh, that's fine. As long as they're imported.
[she holds out box of cigars, he takes four]
The Great Man: You know, if anybody ever comes in here and gives you a ten dollar tip... uh, scrutinize it carefully. There's a lot of that counterfeit money going around.
[she holds out her hand for the money for the cigars]
The Great Man: I'll give you the dough. Don't...
[puts a coin in her hand]
The Great Man: Here... there.
Waitress: If I get any counterfeit nickels or pennies, I'll know where they came from
Ouliotta Delight Hemogloben: The only game I've ever played is bean-bag.
The Great Man: Bean-bag... ah, it's very good. Becomes very exciting at times. I saw the championship played in Paris; many people were killed.
[they're in the basket trying to figure out how to get it pulled up to the mountaintop - a rock falls on his head]
His Niece: Did it hurt you, uncle?
The Great Man: No... how could a rock dropping from a thousand feet hurt your head?
The Great Man: [to an Englishman who has a limp in his walk] Whatsa matter? Did you sprain your ankle?
Bitten Englishman: No, no, no. A dog bit, bit me.
The Great Man: Oh.
Bitten Englishman: Yeah, I was playing, uh, croquet and I, and I dropped my mallet. And, uh, a little dachshund ran straight out and uh, and, and grabbed me by the fetlock.
[Bending over to point to his ankle]
The Great Man: Oh.
[Looking BEHIND him in the bent-over position]
The Great Man: Rather fortunate it wasn't a Newfoundland dog that bit you.
Bitten Englishman: Uh, yes, rahther.
The Great Man: Yeah.
Bitten Englishman: I suppose so.