Lloyd Richards: The atmosphere is very MacBeth-ish... what has, or is about to, happen?
Margo: She thinks only of me, doesn't she?
Birdie: Well, let's say she thinks only about you, anyway.
Margo: How do you mean that?
Birdie: I'll tell you how: like... like she's studying you, like you was a play or a book or a set of blueprints - how you walk, talk, eat, think, sleep.
Margo: I'm sure that's very flattering, Birdie. I'm sure there's nothing wrong with it.
Margo: Nice speech, Eve. But I wouldn't worry too much about your heart. You can always put that award where your heart ought to be.
Bill Sampson: You know, there isn't a playwright in the world who could make me believe this would happen between two adult people. Goodbye, Margo.
Margo: Bill? Where are you going? To find Eve?
Bill Sampson: That suddenly makes the whole thing believable.
Karen: Where were we going that night, Lloyd and I? Funny, the things you remember and the things you don't.
Lloyd Richards: There are very few moments in life as good as this. Let's remember it. To each of us and all of us, never have we been more close, may we never be further apart.
Lloyd Richards: How about calling it a night?
Margo: And you pose as a playwright? A situation pregnant with possibilities and all you can think of is everybody go to sleep.
Miss Casswell: Tell me this, do they have auditions for television?
Addison DeWitt: That's, uh, all television is, my dear, nothing but auditions.
Margo: Bill's thirty-two. He looks thirty-two. He looked it five years ago, he'll look it twenty years from now. I hate men.
Margo: I'll admit I may have seen better days, but I'm still not to be had for the price of a cocktail, like a salted peanut.
Eve: When you're a secretary in a brewery, it's pretty hard to make-believe you're anything else. Everything is beer.
Margo: Heaven help me. I love a psychotic.
Margo: Why so remote Addison? I should think you'd be at your protégé's side lending her moral support.
Addison DeWitt: Miss Casswell at the moment is where I can lend no support, moral or otherwise.
Margo: In the lady's, shall we say, lounge?
Addison DeWitt: ...being violently ill to her tummy.
Lloyd Richards: I shall never understand the weird process by which a body with a voice suddenly fancies itself as a mind. Just when exactly does an actress decide they're HER words she's saying, and HER thoughts she's expressing?
Margo: Usually at the point where she has to rewrite and rethink them, to keep the audience from leaving the theatre.
Margo: Margo Channing is ageless - spoken like a press agent.
Lloyd Richards: I know what I'm talking about. After all, they're my plays.
Margo: Spoken like an author. Lloyd, I'm not twenty-ish, I'm not thirty-ish. Three months ago I was forty years old. Forty. Four O. That slipped out. I hadn't quite made up my mind to admit it. Now I suddenly feel as if I've taken all my clothes off.
Bill Sampson: Outside of a beehive, Margo, your behavior would not be considered either queenly or motherly.
Margo: You are in a beehive, pal. Didn't you know? We are all busy little bees, full of stings, making honey day and night. Aren't we honey?
Margo: I'll admit I may have seen better days, but I'm still not to be had for the price of a cocktail like a salted peanut.
Lloyd Richards: There comes a time that a piano realises that it has not written a concerto.
Margo: And you, I take it, are the Paderewski who plays his concerto on me, the piano?
Addison DeWitt: Why not read my column to pass the time? The minutes will fly like hours.
Answer: As I recall, and it's been some time since I've watched the movie, Karen was part of the plot to have Margo miss a performance so that Eve, Margo's understudy, would have an opportunity to perform the part, for which she received rave reviews. Karen and the others arranged to take a day trip out of town before the performance, and then get "stranded" so they couldn't get back to New York in time for Margo to perform in the play.
raywest