Some Came Running (1958)
[In reference to Dave Hirsh's Brother, Frank]
Hotel Clerk: You don't look like him.
Dave Hirsh: Thanks
Dave Hirsh: You're right, teacher. You're a hundred percent right. I've been a bad boy. I've been naughty. Matter of fact, I don't even belong in your class.
Gwen French: Quite possibly you don't.
Dave Hirsh: Well, you won't get a chance to flunk me again.
Dawn Hirsh: Bumming around, doing all sorts of jobs - didn't that help to make you a better writer?
Dave Hirsh: Dawn honey, bumming around can only help to make you a bum.
Frank Hirsh: Made up your mind about what you're gonna do now that you're out of the army?
Dave Hirsh: Yeah, never go in it again.
Bama Dillert: You take my old man. Now he used to gamble when he was plowin' up his fields, hopin' for a crop. Sometimes he'd get one, sometimes he wouldn't. So figure if a man's gonna gamble, he might as well do it without plowin.'
Dave Hirsh: [to bartender, as he exits and leaves a tip] Buy yourself a Quonset hut.
Gwen French: Your first novel... was a really powerful study of rejection.
Dave Hirsh: Oh, that it was. It was rejected by forty-two publishers.
Bama Dillert: I don't know what it is about them pigs, but they always look better at night.
Gwen French: Oh, Dave, we've met exactly three times. What do I know about you? What do you know about me?
Dave Hirsh: I just know that I'm the kid who wants to marry you. Gwen, it's something I want more than anything else in the world.
Dave Hirsh: A little talent to a writer means about as much as a little talent to a brain surgeon.
Frank Hirsh: I told the judge you'd be leaving town.
Dave Hirsh: Did you tell him where I was going?
Frank Hirsh: How do I know where you're going?
Dave Hirsh: How did you know I was leaving?
Frank Hirsh: Aren't you?
Dave Hirsh: Yeah, I guess so.
Bama Dillert: [in the hospital] How would you feel with strangers bopping in here day and night, turnin' you over, feeling under the covers. Boy, they sure get familiar around here in a hurry.
Professor Robert Haven French: [Talking to Dave Hirsh] Dear Dave, first let me mix you a martini that's pure magic. It may not make one's problems disappear, but... it *does* reduce their size.
Doctor: I'm afraid we're going to have to keep you here for a while, Mr. Dillert.
Bama Dillert: Now, what is this? A hospital or a jail?
Doctor: It's not a question of legality. It's a question of professional responsibility. You're a sick man, Mr. Dillert. Oh, not from the knife wound - that was slight. But we discovered quite accidentally that you have rather an advanced case of... diabetes mellitus.
Bama Dillert: I got what?
Dave Hirsh: Diabetes?
Doctor: I noticed there was considerable alcohol content in your blood test. How much whiskey do you drink in a day, Mr. Dillert?
Dave Hirsh: That's a pretty good question.
Bama Dillert: Oh, I don't rightly know, Doc. Maybe a fifth, maybe less. I don't know.
Dave Hirsh: Maybe more...
Doctor: Of course, you'll have to stop drinking, Mr. Dillert. Alcohol adds an enormous amount of sugar to the blood. You need treatment, Mr. Dillert. Immediate treatment.
Dave Hirsh: You mean it's that serious?
Doctor: The rate Mr. Dillert is going now, it's more than serious.
Bama Dillert: All right, you've done your duty, doc. Now, you just tell me what I have to do to get out of this place without busting down that door and I'll be obliged.
Doctor: [Reluctantly] I'll, uh... send up a release for you to sign.