Arsenic and Old Lace
Mortimer Brewster: Insanity runs in my family . . . it practically gallops!
Holy Mackerel!
Casablanca
Renault: Oh, there’s no hurry. Tonight he will be at Rick’s. Everybody comes to Rick’s.
Renault: I’ve often speculated on why you don’t return to America. Did you abscond with the church funds? Did you run off with a senator’s wife? I like to think that you killed a man – it’s the romantic in me.
Rick: It’s a combination of all three.
And what in heaven’s name brought you to Casablanca.
My health. I came to Casablanca for the waters.
Waters? What waters? We’re in the desert.
I was misinformed.
Strasser: What is your nationality?
Rick: I’m a drunkard.
Louis: That makes Richard a citizen of the world.
Rick: There are certain sections of New York, Major, that I wouldn’t advise you to try to invade.
Mr. Leuchtag: Liebchen – ah, sweetness heart, what watch?
Mrs. Leuchtag: Ten watch.
Mr. Leuchtag: Such watch?
Rick: I remember every detail. The Germans wore gray. You wore blue.
Sam: Boss, ain’t you goin’ to bed?
Rick: Not right now.
Ain’t you plannin’ on goin’ to bed in the near future?
No.
You ever goin’ to bed?
No.
Well, I ain’t sleepy either.
Rick: Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world she walks into mine.
If you’re not with him, you’ll regret it – maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon, and for the rest of your life. … The problems of three little people don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world.
Major Strasser has been shot. Round up the usual suspects.
White Christmas
Phil Davis: When what’s left of you gets around to what’s left to be gotten, what’s left to be gotten won’t be worth getting, whatever it is you’ve got left.
Doris: Well how do you like that? Not so much as a “kiss my foot” or “have an apple”.
Bob Wallace: How do you do?
Doris: Mutual, I’m sure.
Bob: Oh, Phil, when are you going to learn that girls like that are a dime a dozen?
Phil: Please, don’t quote me the price when I haven’t got the time.
Phil: In some ways, you’re far superior to my cocker spaniel.
Bob: Miss Haynes, if you’re ever under a falling building and someone offers to pick you up and carry you to safety, don’t think, don’t pause, don’t hesitate for a moment, just spit in his eye.
Betty Haynes: What did that mean?
Bob: It means we’re going to Vermont.
Phil: How much is “wow”?
Bob: It’s right in between, uh, “ouch” and “boing”.
Phil: Wow!
Bob: When I figure out what that means I’ll come up with a crushing reply.
General’s Party Guest: How do you do?
Doris: Mutual, I’m sure.
Praying you have faith, hope, and love always,
Rachel
Mortimer Brewster: Insanity runs in my family . . . it practically gallops!
Holy Mackerel!
Casablanca
Renault: Oh, there’s no hurry. Tonight he will be at Rick’s. Everybody comes to Rick’s.
Renault: I’ve often speculated on why you don’t return to America. Did you abscond with the church funds? Did you run off with a senator’s wife? I like to think that you killed a man – it’s the romantic in me.
Rick: It’s a combination of all three.
And what in heaven’s name brought you to Casablanca.
My health. I came to Casablanca for the waters.
Waters? What waters? We’re in the desert.
I was misinformed.
Strasser: What is your nationality?
Rick: I’m a drunkard.
Louis: That makes Richard a citizen of the world.
Rick: There are certain sections of New York, Major, that I wouldn’t advise you to try to invade.
Mr. Leuchtag: Liebchen – ah, sweetness heart, what watch?
Mrs. Leuchtag: Ten watch.
Mr. Leuchtag: Such watch?
Rick: I remember every detail. The Germans wore gray. You wore blue.
Sam: Boss, ain’t you goin’ to bed?
Rick: Not right now.
Ain’t you plannin’ on goin’ to bed in the near future?
No.
You ever goin’ to bed?
No.
Well, I ain’t sleepy either.
Rick: Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world she walks into mine.
If you’re not with him, you’ll regret it – maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon, and for the rest of your life. … The problems of three little people don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world.
Major Strasser has been shot. Round up the usual suspects.
White Christmas
Phil Davis: When what’s left of you gets around to what’s left to be gotten, what’s left to be gotten won’t be worth getting, whatever it is you’ve got left.
Doris: Well how do you like that? Not so much as a “kiss my foot” or “have an apple”.
Bob Wallace: How do you do?
Doris: Mutual, I’m sure.
Bob: Oh, Phil, when are you going to learn that girls like that are a dime a dozen?
Phil: Please, don’t quote me the price when I haven’t got the time.
Phil: In some ways, you’re far superior to my cocker spaniel.
Bob: Miss Haynes, if you’re ever under a falling building and someone offers to pick you up and carry you to safety, don’t think, don’t pause, don’t hesitate for a moment, just spit in his eye.
Betty Haynes: What did that mean?
Bob: It means we’re going to Vermont.
Phil: How much is “wow”?
Bob: It’s right in between, uh, “ouch” and “boing”.
Phil: Wow!
Bob: When I figure out what that means I’ll come up with a crushing reply.
General’s Party Guest: How do you do?
Doris: Mutual, I’m sure.
Praying you have faith, hope, and love always,
Rachel
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