Harris Arden: I have to tell you something... I still know what stars are ours.
Buddy Wittenborn: What if we just sang and laughed together... for the rest of our lives.
Young Ann: It wouldn't work.
Buddy Wittenborn: Not for you...
Buddy Wittenborn: You know what you've got? You have got a talent for love. You're like a love genius. And there are too many statues of generals and politicians, and there are not enough statues of someone like you. In this world, there is so much of what looks like love, and sounds like love, and calls itself love, but it isn't. It's just people saying and doing what they think they ought to say and do. And you, you, you, are the greatest. You're the greatest. You're the greatest. So here's to love, an-and, here's to you.
Ray: Mistakes are beautiful, baby. Mistakes are part of the fun.
Buddy Wittenborn: What if you and I just sang and laughed together for the rest of our lives? What if we had a few goofy kids who got our jokes and taught us some new songs?
Lila Wittenborn: Your mother had her whole life. She sang at my wedding... she raised two girls... we can't know everything she did. We are mysterious creatures, aren't we? And at the end, so much of it turns out not to matter.
Ann Grant Lord: There's no such thing as a mistake. You get nervous, but you sing anyways.
Young Ann: Aren't you starting a little bit early?
Buddy Wittenborn: It's Newport. We start at noon.
Buddy Wittenborn: Hey, I've finally had an idea for my novel.
Young Ann: Shoot!
Buddy Wittenborn: It's about a gangster who's in love with a rich girl.
Young Ann: Honey, that's The Great Gatsby.
Buddy Wittenborn: Damn. Well, in my version, they all get married and live happily ever after, and it'll be the fun Great Gatsby.
Buddy Wittenborn: "Wittgenstein, Schmittgenstein. What's for lunch?"
Mrs. Brown: Just close your eyes and think of a time when you were happy.
Nina Mars: You've never told us about somebody named Harris.
Ann Grant Lord: I guess I wanted it to be a surprise. You used to like surprises.
Mrs. Wittenborn: It seems that half the people I've seated together at this reception are either *mortal* enemies, have had *disastrous* affairs, or both.
Young Ann: Why do I feel like he's been this way since he was about 10?
Harris Arden: Ah, he didn't actually start drinking till he was 12.
Nina Mars: I'm fine enough. I'm not the one who's sick.
Ann Grant Lord: Um, you're not the one who's well.
[Buddy comes up the cliff with his bottle of wine and takes a mouthful of it]
Buddy Wittenborn: It's kind of salty.
[Ann slaps Buddy when he comes up the cliff]
Young Ann: You're not a hero. You're pathetic!
Buddy Wittenborn: Oh Ann!
Young Ann: Have some *guts*. Go live your own life.
Buddy Wittenborn: What? This isn't it?
Young Ann: Write a first line and then write a second one. *Kiss men if you want to. Horrify your parents.*
Buddy Wittenborn: Annie, what...
Young Ann: *Be a man.* Just leave me out of it. Don't carry around some... some stupid note I wrote you years ago.
Young Ann: You're not interested in me. You just have this *idea* of me. Have the nerve to admit it and just... leave me alone.
Buddy Wittenborn: Hell, I got the note all wet.