Mike Connor: Liz, I know I'm not destiny's dream man but.
Liz Imbrie: Mike, I think I'd better grab you. You're likely to get in trouble one of these days.
Louis Armstrong: You could play football in this room.
C. K. Dexter-Haven: I know, but can you rehearse?
Louis Armstrong: Is that chandelier tied tight up there?
C. K. Dexter-Haven: If it gets to swinging a little put a mute in your horn.
C. K. Dexter-Haven: Oh Sam you're slipping. That used to terrify me, the withering glance of the goddess.
Mike Connor: She can't be for real.
Liz Imbrie: Who was doing the interviewing?
Mike Connor: You think she was born that way?
Liz Imbrie: Nah. Takes years.
Liz Imbrie: Were you by any chance playing footsie with me at lunch?
Mike Connor: From where I sat?
Liz Imbrie: I didn't think your reach was that good. Seth Lord has a roving eye and foot.
Mike Connor: Didn't you once know a girl named Tracy Samantha Lord?
C. K. Dexter-Haven: Yes, I did.
Mike Connor: No, you didn't! If you did, you wouldn't have let her go.
Tracy Lord: Caroline Lord, if you put this picture in my wedding presents once more I am going to personally chain you to your bed.
Mike Connor: You know how I feel about my grandmother but I'd sell her for a drink.
Tracy Lord: Help me off the pedestal.
Seth Lord: Watch out for that first step, it's quite a tumble.
Tracy Lord: There are fairies at the bottom of my garden all ringing little bells.
Liz Imbrie: You know something professor, I think you dropped a loop.
Mike Connor: Would you have four footmen bring me a large ashtray.
Liz Imbrie: Mike, be careful what you say. We may be wired for sound.
Mike Connor: Oh Tracy, you're tremendous.
Tracy Lord: It's funny because I feel very small. Put me in your pocket, Mike.
Tracy Lord: Oh, I think men are wonderful.
Liz Imbrie: The little dears.
Tracy Lord: Are you learning anything about the idle rich?
Mike Connor: Yeah, they drive too fast. Where are we headed anyway?
Tracy Lord: The graveyard.
Mike Connor: I'm not ready.
Tracy Lord: I thought I'd show you the playground of the rich, the graveyard of the wealthy.
Mike Connor: Well, for that I'm ready.
Tracy Lord: I'm such an unholy mess of a girl.
C. K. Dexter-Haven: Oh, come on, that's not even good conversation, Tracy.
Mike Connor: Hey, Liz.
Liz Imbrie: Huh?
Mike Connor: Look at all the loot they've collected.
Liz Imbrie: They must run a hockshop on the side.
Mrs. Seth Lord: This is Miss Elizabeth Imbrie and Mr Mike Macauley Connor. They're from Spy magazine.
C. K. Dexter-Haven: Spy? Say your tastes have changed a little haven't they, Sam?
C. K. Dexter-Haven: You'll find it under Harvard Classics. Just give Darwin a little nudge.
Louis Armstrong: What goes on around here? There's a dark horse in this here race and my boy's running a slow third.
