Salesman on train: How far you going, friend?
Harold Hill: Wherever the people are as green as the money... friend.
Harold Hill: I always think there's a band, kid.
Marian Paroo: No, please, not tonight. Maybe tomorrow.
Harold Hill: Oh, my dear little librarian. You pile up enough tomorrows, and you'll find you've collected nothing but a lot of empty yesterdays. I don't know about you, but I'd like to make today worth remembering.
Marian Paroo: Oh, so would I.
Charlie Cowell: Don't believe I caught your name.
Harold Hill: Don't believe I dropped it.
Harold Hill: Mothers of River City, heed that warning before it's too late! Watch for the telltale signs of corruption! The minute your son leaves the house, does he rebuckle his knickerbockers below the knee? Is there a nicotine stain on his index finger? A dime-novel hidden in the corncrib? Is he starting to memorize jokes from Captain Billy's Whiz-Bang? Are certain words creeping into his conversation? Words like "swell" and "so's your old man"? If so my friends, ya got trouble.
Marcellus Washburn: Hey, what are you selling now? Last I heard about you, you was in steam automobiles.
Harold Hill: I was.
Marcellus Washburn: Well, what happened?
Harold Hill: Somebody actually invented one.
Marcellus Washburn: No.
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