The Cincinnati Kid (1965)
Lancey Howard: [to Cincinnati Kid] You're good, kid, but as long as I'm around, you're only second best.
Lancey Howard: Gets down to what it's all about, doesn't it? Making the wrong move at the right time.
Cincinnati Kid: Is that what it's all about?
Lancey Howard: Like life, I guess. You're good, kid, but as long as I'm around you're second best. You might as well learn to live with it.
Slade: Six stacks, is that right, Shooter?
Slade: Well, we've been playing 30 hours... uh, that rate, six thousand, that makes roughly, uh, $200 an hour. Thank you for the entertainment, gentlemen. I am particularly grateful to Lancey, here; it's been a rewarding experience to watch a great artist at work. Thank you for the privilege, sir.
Lancey Howard: Well now, you're quite welcome, son. It's a pleasure to meet someone who understands that to the true gambler, money is never an end in itself, it's simply a tool, as a language is to thought. Good evening, uh... Mr. Slade.
Slade: Good evening, Mr. Howard.
Shooter: Well, Lancey, are we all set for Monday night?
Lancey Howard: Uh-huh.
Shooter: I can get Lady Fingers to come.
Lancey Howard: Lady Fingers? I haven't seen that old bitch - oh, it must be at least ten years;long enough to think of her almost fondly.
Cincinnati Kid: Listen, Christian, after the game, I'll be The Man. I'll be the best there is. People will sit down at the table with you, just so they can say they played with The Man. And that's what I'm gonna be, Christian.
Christian: I know.
Slade: How the hell did you know I didn't have the king or the ace?
Lancey Howard: I recollect a young man putting the same question to Eddie the Dude. "Son," Eddie told him, "all you paid was the looking price. Lessons are extra."
Lancey Howard: [thinking on what he said to Lady Fingers] No, Lady; he hasn't gotten to me. Not yet; but he might, he just might.
[Shooter's wife Melba is altering a jigsaw puzzle piece with a nail file]
Shooter: Melba, why do you do that?
Melba: So it'll fit, stupid.
Shooter: No, I'm not talking about that. What I'm asking is... do you, uh, have to cheat at everything?
Melba: At everything?
Shooter: Yes. At... solitaire. I've yet to see you play one game of solitaire without cheating.
Melba: So what?
Shooter: Look, you're just cheating yourself, don't you understand? You'll be the loser, no one else but yourself!... You've ruined the puzzle, now, that doesn't go in there.
[She forces the altered piece into place]
Melba: Does now.
[Slade blackmails Shooter into cheating on his dealing so the Kid will beat Howard]
Shooter: Hey, why are you doing this? It can't be for money.
Slade: Yes, for my kind of money, gut money. I wanta to see that smug old bastard gutted. Gutted!
Shooter: Like he gutted you.
Slade: Yes, that's right, that's right!
Cincinnati Kid: You call that an argument?
Slade: No, that's a fact. The argument's leaning over there against the door jamb.
[Referring to his muscleman]
Lady Fingers: How you holdin' up, Lancey?
Lancey Howard: Lady Fingers, that young man is a stud poker playing son of a...
Lady Fingers: He's gettin' to you, ain't he?
Lancey Howard: No, Lady, he hasn't gotten to me.
Lancey Howard: Women are a universal problem in our business. Of course, uh, it's purely an academic question wuth me now, but, looking back, I think it's best not to look for a fixed thing. Just tie into something nice when you're away from the action and let it wear itself out.
Melba: [Cincinatti Kid slaps her butt] Ouch. You Bastard!
Cincinnati Kid: Cheers baby.
Melba: I hope you lose.