The Dark Corner (1946)
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: The enjoyment of art is the only remaining ecstasy that is neither immoral nor illegal.
Hardy Cathcart: Lovers of beauty never haggle over price, Tony.
Bradford Galt: I'll be at the Cathcart galleries absorbing culture. I don't want to die ignorant.
Kathleen Stewart: I've never been followed before.
Bradford Galt: That's a terrible reflection on American manhood.
Bradford Galt: You know, I think I'll fire you and get me a Tahitian secretary.
Kathleen Stewart: You won't like them; those grass skirts are a fire hazard.
Bradford Galt: [replying to Anthony Jardine] You, on the level. Why, for six bits you'd hang your mother on a meathook.
Hardy Cathcart: How I detest the dawn. The grass always looks like it's been left out all night.
Bradford Galt: There goes my last lead. I feel all dead inside. I'm backed up in a dark corner, and I don't know who's hitting me.
Bradford Galt: I'm clean as a peeled egg. No debts, no angry husbands, no payoffs... nothin'.
Bradford Galt: One thing led to another, and he led with his right.
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.
Mrs. Kingsley: Isn't my Turner divine? Look at it! It grows on you.
Hardy Cathcart: You make it sound like a species of fungus.
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.
Miss Dennis, Saleswoman: This is one of Donatello's finest pieces.
Bradford Galt: How much is it?
Miss Dennis, Saleswoman: $40,000.
Bradford Galt: Wrap it up.
Policeman in Galleries: Hey, Mac. Do you suppose anybody in his right mind ever buys a piece of junk like that?
Policeman in Galleries: Sure they do. That is "aht."
Stauffer, alias Fred Foss: It didn't work. It was a busto-crusto.
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.
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."
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.
Stauffer, alias Fred Foss: It didn't work. It was a busto crusto.
Hardy Cathcart: [Cathcart is at a total loss as to what this means] A what?
Stauffer, alias Fred Foss: A flop.
Kathleen: But remember, I can get brand new tough guys for a dime a dozen.
Bradford Galt: Here, get yourself two dozen.
[Bradford tosses two dimes at Kathleen across the table]
Kathleen: [Kathleen pushes them back towards Bradford] I'd rather pick you up at a rummage sale. I'm a sucker for bargains. Speaking of bargains, if you can't get nines in those nylons, I'll take eight-and-a-half or even ten. Doesn't matter.
Bradford Galt: I'll make a note of it.
Bradford Galt: The stain... The ink, baby, the ink. I smeared ink on his white suit up in my office.
Kathleen Stewart: What of it?
Bradford Galt: He'd have to have the suit cleaned, wouldn't he? The cleaners would have his address, wouldn't they?
Kathleen Stewart: Well, this is a pretty dirty town. Cleaning places grow on every street like mushrooms.
Bradford Galt: Yeah, but they don't do their own cleaning.