Sydney Kidd: "You really hate me, don't you Connor."
Mike: "No, no. I don't like you very much..."
Sydney Kidd: "You hate me I trust, Miss Imbrie?"
Liz: "Oh, no, I can't afford to hate anyone; I'm only a photographer."
Liz: "Here, Mike, there's a little spit in your eye. It shows."
Mike: (Looking at the phone) "Uh-oh. Liz, what did I tell you? How do you like this?: 'Living room, sitting room, terrace, pool, stables...'"
Liz: "That's probably so they can talk to the horses without having them in the house."
Margaret Lord: "Hello?"
Mike: "Hello, this is the bridal suite. Would you send up a couple of caviar sandwiches and a bottle of beer?"
Margaret Lord: "What? Who is this?"
Mike: "This is the Voice of Doom calling. Your days are numbered to the Seventh Son of the Seventh Son!"
Tracy: "What's the 'Macaulay' for?"
Mike: "Well, my father taught English history. I'm, I'm 'Mike' to my friends."
Tracy: "Of whom you have many, I'm sure! English history, it's always fascinated me! Cromwell, Robin Hood, Jack the Ripper! Where did he teach? I mean your father."
Dexter: "I thought all writers drank to excess and beat their wives. You know at one time I think I secretly wanted to be a writer."
Seth Lord: "You have a good mind, a pretty face, a disciplined body that does what you tell it to. You have everything it takes to make a lovely woman except the one essential: an understanding heart. And without that you might just as well be made of bronze."
Margaret Lord: "Oh dear, is there no such thing as privacy anymore?"
Tracy: "Only in bed, Mother, and not always there."
Mike: (Whistles) "Follow that cab!"
Taxi Driver: "What cab, sir?"
Mike: "No cab. Some joke, huh?"
Dexter: "What's up?"
Mike: "You are."
Mike: "Doggonne it, C. K. Dexter Haven, either I'm gonna sock you or you're gonna sock me!"
Dexter: "Shall we toss a coin?"
Liz: "We've come for the body of Macaulay Connor."
Dexter: "I'm so glad you're here: can you use a typewriter?"
Liz: "No, thanks. I have one at home."
Tracy: "Snob."
Mike: "Say, what do you mean, 'snob'?"
Tracy: "You're the worst kind there is, an intellectual snob. You made up your mind awfully young, it seems to me."
Mike: "Well thirty's about time to make up your mind. And I'm nothing of the sort, not Mr. Connor."
Tracy: "The time to make up your mind about people... is never."
Mike: "It - it can't be anything like love, can it?"
Tracy: "No, it mustn't be! It can't be!"
Mike: "Would it be inconvenient?"
Tracy: "Terribly!"
Tracy: (Sleepy) "Hello Dexter." (Serious) "Hello George." (Giggly) "Hello Mike!"
Dexter: "You don't believe it then?"
George: "Believe what?"
Dexter: "Well, the, uh, the implication of what we saw, let's say."
George: "What else am I to believe?"
Dexter: "That's entirely up to you."
George: "I've got eyes, I've got imagination, haven't I?"
Dexter: "I don't know; have you?"
Mike: "Look, if you think I..."
Dexter: "I know, I know. I'm sorry. But I thought I'd better hit you before he did. He's in better shape than I am."
Mike stares at him.
Mike: "Well you'll do!"
Tracy: "I'm going crazy. I'm standing here solidly on my own two hands and going crazy."
Margaret Lord: "Are you one of the musicians?"
Mike: "No."
Margaret Lord: "Oh, of course! Your Junius's friend!"
Mike: "Uh..."
Margaret Lord: "Only you're not."
Mike: "No."
Margaret Lord: "You don't have any violin strings, do you?"
Mike searches his pockets.
Mike: "Asprin. Will that work?"
Margaret Lord: "I don't think so; it's for a violin! Oh, well, don't bother!"
Mike: "Is that an alcoholic beverage?"
Dexter: "Yes."
Mike: "For me?"
Dexter: "No, it's for Tracy. Why, do you want one?"
Mike: "Listen, right now I'd sell my grandmother for a drink. And you know I love my grandmother."
Dexter: "Well Uncle Willie's down in the cellar doing weird and wonderful things. Tell him I said one of the same."
Mike: "Mind if I make it two?"
Dexter: "That's between you and your grandmother!"
Dexter: "George. Splendid chap, George. Very high morals. Very broad shoulders."
Dinah Lord: "Good morning!"
Uncle Willie: "That remains to be seen."
Dinah Lord: "This stinks."
Margaret Lord: "Don't say 'stinks', darling; if absolutely necessary 'smells', but only if absolutely necessary."
Dinah Lord: "But don't you think it's stinking not at least to want Father?"
Margaret Lord: "Yes, darling, between ourselves, I think it's good and stinking!"
