James Bond: Do you expect me to talk?
Auric Goldfinger: No, Mr. Bond, I expect you to die!
Pussy Galore: My name is Pussy Galore.
James Bond: I must be dreaming.
Q: Now this one I'm particularly keen about. You see the gear lever here? Now, if you take the top off, you will find a little red button. Whatever you do, don't touch it.
James Bond: Yeah, why not?
Q: Because you'll release this section of the roof, and engage and then fire the passenger ejector seat. Whish!
James Bond: Ejector seat? You're joking!
Q: I never joke about my work, 007.
James Bond: My dear girl, there are some things that just aren't done, such as drinking Dom Perignon '53 above the temperature of 38 degrees Fahrenheit. That's just as bad as listening to the Beatles without earmuffs!
James Bond: Manners, Oddjob. I thought you always took your hat off to a lady.
James Bond: [to Pussy] You know, he kills little girls like you.
Pussy Galore: Little boys, too.
James Bond: [over intercom to Goldfinger, who has been cheating at cards] Now hear this, Goldfinger. Your luck has just changed. I doubt very much that the Miami Beach Police would take kindly to what you're doing. Nod your head if you agree... Nod...
James Bond: Good. Now, start losing, Goldfinger. Shall we say ten thousand dollars? No, let's be generous. Let's make it fifteen thousand.
[Goldfinger hesitates, then throws a card on the table]
Simmons: Well, I can see this is really my day!
[puts his cards on the table]
Jill Masterson: May I see?
[looks through binoculars. She sees Goldfinger snap his pencil in disgust]
James Bond: [over intercom] Over and out.
[switches intercom off, then to Jill]
James Bond: That should keep him occupied for quite some time.
Jill Masterson: I'm beginning to like you, Mr. Bond.
James Bond: Oh... call me James.
Jill Masterson: More than anyone I've ever met in a long time... James.
James Bond: Well, what are we going to do about it?
Jill Masterson: Yes, what?
James Bond: I'll tell you at dinner.
Jill Masterson: Where?
James Bond: Oh, I know the best place in town.
Auric Goldfinger: Ah, welcome to AuricStud, Mr. Bond.
[gesturing toward a horse]
Auric Goldfinger: Beautiful animal, isn't she?
James Bond: Certainly better bred than the owner.
Pussy Galore: What happened? Where's Goldfinger?
James Bond: Playing his golden harp.
James Bond: You'll kill 60,000 people uselessly.
Auric Goldfinger: Hah. American motorists kill that many every two years.
James Bond: Yes, well, I've worked out a few statistics of my own. 15 billion dollars in gold bullion weighs 10,500 tons. Sixty men would take twelve days to load it onto 200 trucks. Now, at the most, you're going to have two hours before the Army, Navy, Air Force, and Marines move in and make you put it back.
Auric Goldfinger: Who mentioned anything about removing it?
[Bond is stunned into silence]
Auric Goldfinger: The julep tart enough for you?
James Bond: You plan to break into the world's largest bank, but not to steal anything. Why?
Auric Goldfinger: Go on, Mr. Bond.
James Bond: [thinking] Mr. Ling, the Red Chinese at the factory, he's a specialist in nuclear fission... but of course! His government's given you a bomb.
Auric Goldfinger: I prefer to call it an "atomic device." It's small, but particularly dirty.
James Bond: A dirty bomb? Cobalt and iodine?
Auric Goldfinger: Precisely.
James Bond: Well, if you explode it in Fort Knox, the... the entire gold supply of the United States would be radioactive for... fifty-seven years.
Auric Goldfinger: Fifty-eight, to be exact.
James Bond: I apologize, Goldfinger. It's an inspired deal! They get what they want, economic chaos in the West. And the value of your gold increases many times.
Auric Goldfinger: I conservatively estimate, ten times.
James Bond: Brilliant.
[Gesturing to a crushed car]
Auric Goldfinger: Forgive me, Mr. Bond, but, uh... I must arrange to separate my gold from the late Mr. Solo.
James Bond: As you said, he had a pressing engagement.
[after knocking a fan into a bathtub to electrocute a bad guy]
James Bond: Shocking! Positively shocking!
Pussy Galore: [pointing a gun at Bond, who has just emerged from the airplane lavatory] We'll be landing in twenty minutes. Do you want to play it easy, or the hard way? And this isn't a tranquilizer gun.
James Bond: Now, Pussy, you know a lot more about planes than guns. That's a Smith and Wesson 45, and if you fire at me at this close range, the bullet will pass through me and the fuselage like a blowtorch through butter. The cabin will depressurize, and we'll both be sucked into outer space together. If that's how you want to enter the United States, you're welcome. As for me, I prefer the easy way.
Pussy Galore: That's very sensible.
James Bond: Besides, there's always so much going on around Mr. Goldfinger. It would be a shame not to accept his hospitality.
Pussy Galore: I'm sure he'll be happy to see you, too.
[touches the gun barrel to his chin]
Pussy Galore: You like close shaves, don't you?
Colonel Smithers: Have a little more of this rather disappointing brandy.
M: What's the matter with it?
James Bond: I'd say it was a 30-year-old fine, indifferently blended, sir... with an overdose of bon-bois.
M: Colonel Smithers is giving the lecture, 007.
Mei-Lei: Can I do anything for you, Mr. Bond?
James Bond: Uh, just a drink. A martini, shaken, not stirred.
James Bond: [to Jill, who has been helping Goldfinger cheat at cards] What's your name?
Jill Masterson: Jill.
James Bond: Jill who?
Jill Masterson: Jill Masterson.
James Bond: Tell me, Jill... why does he do it?
Jill Masterson: He likes to win.
James Bond: Why do you do it?
Jill Masterson: He pays me.
James Bond: Is that all he pays you for?
Jill Masterson: And for being seen with him.
James Bond: Just seen?
Jill Masterson: Just seen.
James Bond: Oh, I'm so glad. You know, you're much too nice a girl to be mixed up in all this.
Auric Goldfinger: Man has climbed Mount Everest, gone to the bottom of the ocean. He's fired rockets at the Moon, split the atom, achieved miracles in every field of human endeavor... except crime!
James Bond: Special plane, lunch at the White House... how come?
Felix Leiter: The President wants to thank you personally.
James Bond: Oh, it was nothing, really.
Felix Leiter: I know that, but he doesn't.
James Bond: I suppose I'll be able to get a drink there.
Felix Leiter: I told the stewardess liquor for three.
James Bond: Who are the other two?
Felix Leiter: Oh, there are no other two.
[seeing the body of Oddjob who was electrocuted]
Felix Leiter: You okay, James? Where's your butler friend?
James Bond: He blew a fuse.
[to Pussy Galore]
James Bond: We must have a few fast falls together some time.
James Bond: [after being met by Pussy Galore, dressed in a casual yet seductive outfit] Well, well, the new Miss Galore. Where do you hide your gold knuckles in that outfit.
Pussy Galore: Oh, I never carry weapons after business hours.
James Bond: None at all?
Pussy Galore: [with a very friendly smile] I'm completely defenseless...
James Bond: [after thoroughly looking her over] ... so am I.
Auric Goldfinger: This is gold, Mr. Bond. All my life I've been in love with its color... its brilliance, its divine heaviness.
James Bond: What do you know about gold, Moneypenny?
Miss Moneypenny: Oh, the only gold I know about is the kind you wear... you know, on the third finger of your left hand?
James Bond: Well, one of these days we really must look into that.
Miss Moneypenny: How about tonight? You'll come over for dinner...
[playfully tosses Bond's hat onto the hat rack]
Miss Moneypenny: and I'll cook you a wonderful angel cake.
James Bond: Well, nothing would give me greater pleasure, but I'm afraid I have a... business appointment.
Miss Moneypenny: [laughing] That's the flimsiest excuse you've ever given me. Oh, well, some girls have all the luck. Who is she, James?
M: [over intercom] "She" is me, Miss Moneypenny. And kindly omit the customary byplay with 007. He's dining with me and I don't want him to be late.
Miss Moneypenny: [to Bond] Then there's hope for me yet.
James Bond: [gives Moneypenny a playful peck on the cheek] Moneypenny, won't you ever believe me?
James Bond: [discovers Goldfinger cheating at golf] You play a Slazenger 1, don't you?
Auric Goldfinger: Yes, why?
James Bond: This is a Slazenger 7.
[indicating his own golf ball]
James Bond: Here's my Penfold Hearts. You must have played the wrong ball somewhere on the 18th fairway. We are playing strict rules, so I'm afraid you lose the hole and the match.
[Goldfinger throws the golf ball to the ground in disgust]
Auric Goldfinger: [to Bond, who is about to be cut in half by a laser] There is nothing you can talk to me about that I don't already know.
James Bond: Well, you're forgetting one thing. If I fail to report, 008 replaces me.
Auric Goldfinger: I trust he will be more successful.
James Bond: Well, he knows what I know.
Auric Goldfinger: You know nothing, Mr. Bond.
James Bond: Operation Grand Slam, for instance.
Auric Goldfinger: Two words you may have overheard, which cannot have the slightest significance to you or anyone in your organization.
James Bond: Can you afford to take that chance?
Auric Goldfinger: [thinks for a moment, then orders the laser switched off] You are quite right, Mr. Bond. You are worth more to me alive.
[a technician approaches Bond, and fires a tranquilzer dart into his chest. Bond collapses into unconsciousness]
[Bond is hand-cuffed to the "atomic device" and is about to be lowered into Fort Knox's gold vault]
Auric Goldfinger: Goodbye, Mr. Bond.
Radio Newsman: [broadcasting on radio, over Bond and Jill, who are kissing passionately in bed] Station WEBS brings you the latest in world news. Washington... at the White House today, the president said that he was entirely satisfied...
[Bond switches off the radio]
James Bond: [to Jill] That makes two of us.
Pussy Galore: I'm Mr. Goldfinger's personal pilot.
James Bond: Oh? Just how personal is that?
Pussy Galore: I'm a damn good pilot. Period.
James Bond: What would it take for you to see things my way?
Pussy Galore: A lot more than you've got.
James Bond: How do you know?
Pussy Galore: I don't want to know.
M: Gold? All over?
James Bond: She died of skin suffocation. It's been known to happen to cabaret dancers. It's all right as long as you leave a small bare patch at the base of the spine to allow the skin to breathe.
M: Someone obviously didn't.
James Bond: And I know who.
M: This isn't a personal vendetta, 007. It's an assignment, like any other. And if you can't treat it as such, coldly and objectively, 008 can replace you.
M: You've hardly distinguished yourself, have you? You were supposed to observe Mr. Goldfinger, not borrow his girlfriend. Instead of that, Goldfinger goes off to Europe, and it's only by the grace of God, your friend Leiter, and my intervention with the British Embassy in Washington, that you're not in the custody of the Miami Beach Police!
James Bond: [frustrated] Sir... I am aware of my shortcomings... and I am prepared to continue this assignment in the spirit you suggest... if I knew what it was about!
[catches himself, then more calmly]
James Bond: ... sir.
M: What do you know about gold? Not paint, bullion.
James Bond: I know it when I see it.
M: Meet me tonight at seven. Black tie.
Auric Goldfinger: Good morning, Mr. Simmons. Ready for our little game?
Simmons: Sure I'm ready. When you're ten grand in the hole, you're ready for anything.
Colonel Smithers: [Referring to the gold bar on the dining room table] Mr. Bond can make whatever use of it he deems necessary... provided he returns it, of course. It's worth five thousand pounds.
[Bond reaches for the bar, but M stops him short]
M: You'll draw it from Q Branch... with the rest of your equipment... in the morning.
James Bond: Of course, sir.
Colonel Smithers: Gentlemen, Mr. Goldfiinger has gold bullion on deposit in Zurich, Amsterdam, Caracas, Hong Kong... worth 20 million pounds. Most of it came from this country.
James Bond: Why move it?
Colonel Smithers: Because the price of gold varies from country to country. If you buy it here at 30 dollars an ounce, you can sell it in, say, Pakistan for 110 dollars and triple your money... provided, of course, you have the facilities for melting it down.
James Bond: And has he?
Colonel Smithers: Apart from being a legitimate international bullion dealer, Mr. Goldfinger poses... no, that's not quite fair... *is*, among his many other pursuits, a legitimate international jeweler. He's legally entitled to operate modest metallurgical installations. His British one is down in Kent. We have yet to discover how he transfers his gold out of the coutry... Lord knows we've tried.
Colonel Smithers: If your department can establish that it is being done illegally, the bank can institute proceedings to recover the bulk of his holdings.
James Bond: I think it's time Mr. Goldfinger and I met... socially, of course.
Colonel Smithers: I was hoping you'd say that.
M: It might lead to a business talk... Mr. Goldfinger's kind of business.
Auric Goldfinger: [Playing golf with Bond] Two holes to go.
James Bond: Yes, and all's square.
Auric Goldfinger: Then you have no objection to increasing the stakes?
James Bond: No. What did you have in mind?
Auric Goldfinger: Why, the bar of gold you have with you, naturally.
James Bond: [Surprised] It's worth five thousand pounds.
Auric Goldfinger: [Offhandedly] Oh, I'll stake the cash equivalent.
James Bond: Naturally.
[Bond tees up his ball and starts his backswing, but Goldfinger interrupts him]
Auric Goldfinger: Strict rules of golf?
James Bond: But of course.
[after learning Pussy Galore alerted the authorities]
James Bond: I must have appealed to her maternal instincts.
Q: [Showing Bond a tracking device] Reception on the dashboard, here. Audo-visual
Q: , range a hundred and fifty miles.
James Bond: Ingenious, and useful too. Allow a man to stop off for a quick one en route.
Q: It has not been perfected, out of years of patient research, ENTIRELY for that purpose, 007. And incidentally, we'd appreciate its return, along with all your other equipment, INTACT for once, when you return from the field.
James Bond: Well, you'd be surprised the amount of wear and tear that goes on out there in the field.
[Why Bond wears a gun]
James Bond: I have a slight inferiority complex.
[Goldfinger is cheating at golf, with the help of Oddjob]
Hawker: If that's his original ball, I'm Arnold Palmer.
James Bond: 'Tisn't.
Hawker: How do you know?
James Bond: I'm standing on it.
[a laser is about to cut Bond in half]
James Bond: I think you made your point. Thank you for the demonstration.
Auric Goldfinger: Choose your next witticism carefully Mr. Bond, it may be your last.
[walking through Q Branch, one worker calmly empties a machine gun at another man's chest, who then opens his coat to reveal a bulletproof vest]
Q: It's not perfected yet.
James Bond: Thank you.
Sierra: Mr. Ramirez and his friends will be out of business.
James Bond: At least they won't be using heroin flavored bananas to finance revolutions.
James Bond: Oh, no you don't.
[Bond grabs Pussy to pull her down as she is waving to a helicopter]
James Bond: This is no time to be rescued.
[Bond kisses Pussy passionately]
James Bond: [to Goldfinger, after Oddjob has just decapitated a statue at the golf club] Remarkable... but what does the club secretary have to say?
Auric Goldfinger: Oh, nothing, Mr. Bond... I own the club.
Colonel Smithers: We, here at the Bank of England, Mr. Bond, are the official depository for gold bullion... just as Fort Knox, Kentucky is for the United States. We know, of course, the amounts we each hold, we know the amounts deposited in other banks, and we can estimate what is being held for industrial purposes. This allows our two governments to establish, respectively, the true value of the dollar and the pound. Consequently, we are vitally concerned about unauthorized leakages.
James Bond: I take it you mean smuggling.
Colonel Smithers: Yes. Gold, gentlemen, which can be melted down and recast, is virtually untraceable... making it, unlike diamonds, ideal for smuggling... attracting the biggest and most ingenious criminals.
James Bond: [speaking to a woman when another spy arrives to talk business] Run along now, man talk...
James Bond: You know Operation Grand Slam simply won't work. And incidentally Delta-9 nerve gas is fatal.
Auric Goldfinger: You are unusually well informed, Mr Bond.
James Bond: Auric Goldfinger. Sounds like a French nail varnish.