Multiple Characters quotes

C. K. Dexter Haven: Hello, friends and enemies.

Elizabeth 'Liz' Imbrie: [of Mike] Where's my wandering parakeet?

Dinah: This stinks.
Margaret: Don't say 'stinks,' darling. If absolutely necessary, 'smells' - but only if absolutely necessary.

Tracy: If you just face the facts squarely as I did.
Margaret: We both might face the fact that neither of us have proved to be a very great success as a wife.
Tracy: We just picked the wrong first husbands, that's all.

Tracy: Isn't George an angel?...Is he handsome or is he not?
Margaret: George is handsome.
Dinah: I like Dexter.
Tracy: Really. Why don't you postpone the wedding?
Dinah: How?
Tracy: Get smallpox.
Margaret: Now don't put the idea in her head.

Dinah: She's so mean about Dexter.
Margaret: He was rather mean to her, my dear.
Dinah: Did he really sock her?
Margaret: Please, Dinah.
Dinah: Did he really?
Margaret: Darling. You go out and wait in the car.
Dinah: The papers were full of 'innundo.'
Margaret: Of what?
Dinah: Of 'innundo.' 'Cruelty and drunkenness,' it said. She's sort of, well you know, hard, isn't she?
Margaret: Certainly not. Tracy sets exceptionally high standards for herself, that's all. And other people aren't always quite apt to live up to them.
Dinah: But don't you think it's stinking not at least to want father?
Margaret: Yes, darling. Between ourselves, I think it's good and stinking.

George: [looking through Spy Magazine] Well I thought maybe you, you being one of the oldest families in Philadelphia and me getting fairly important myself, it's luck of course...
Tracy: [tossing the paper into the dirt] Of all the filthy ideas - coming into a private house with a camera.

Kidd: Your assignment will be Spy's most sensational achievement - Tracy Lord. Big game hunting in Africa, fox hunting in Pennsylvania. Married on impulse and divorced in a rage. And always unapproachable by the press. 'The Unapproachable Miss Lord.' 'The Philadelphia Story'...(quote) 'A Wedding Day Inside Mainline Society.'
Mike: Or: 'What the Kitchen Maid Saw Through the Keyhole.' (unquote)...(quote) 'No hunter of buckshot in the rear is Cagey Crafty Connor.' (unquote) (close paragraph)
Liz: Close job, close bank account. But Mr. Kidd, how can you possibly get inside the Lord estate, let alone the house?
Mike: Now we're not gonna do it, Liz, dawgonnit, it's degrading. It's undignified.
Liz: And so is an empty stomach. How do we get in?

Mike: I don't think you're being fair to me, Mr. Kidd.
Kidd: No?
Mike: No. You're treating me like you treat all your other writers.

Kidd: You really hate me, don't you Connor?
Mike: Oh no! [pause] I don't like you very much though.

Kidd: I understand we understand each other.
Dexter: Quite.

Liz: What's this room? I've forgotten my compass.
Mike: I'd say, south-by-southwest parlor-by-living-room.

Librarian: What does thee wish?
Mike: I'm looking for some local b— what'd you say?
Librarian: What does thee wish?
Mike: Um, local biography or history.
Librarian: If thee will consult with my colleague in there.
Mike: Mm-hm. Dost thou have a washroom?
[the librarian points]
Mike: Thank thee.

[Mike has discovered the list of telephones in the Lord's house]
Mike: Uh-oh, Liz, what did I tell you? Look, 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.

Mike: [on the telephone] This is the Bridal Suite. Would you send up a couple of caviar sandwiches and a bottle of beer?
Margaret: What? Who is this?
Mike: This is the Voice of Doom calling. Your days are numbered, to the seventh son of the seventh son!
Margaret: Hello? Hello?
Tracy: What's the matter?
Margaret: I think one of the servants has been at the sherry again.

Margaret: Oh, dear. Is there no such thing as privacy any more?
Tracy: Only in bed, mother, and not always there.

Tracy: I thought you were low, but I never thought you'd sink to...Who the heck do they think they are, barging in on peaceful people?
Dexter: Now, shush, shush, they'll think you don't want them.
Tracy: I want them out and you too.
Dexter: Yes, yes your Majesty, but first, could I interest you in some small blackmail?
Tracy: No!
Dexter: [as he removes an article from his coat pocket] Well, it's an article, complete with snapshots, details, and insinuations. And it's ready for publication in Spy and it's about your father and that dancer in New York.
Tracy: [grabbing the article] About father and Tina Mara?
Dexter: Now quiet, Dinah...
Tracy: But they can't. Well they can't, even if it's true. Where did you get these?
Dexter: From Sidney Kidd. The editor and publisher...
Tracy: He's got to be stopped.
Dexter: Well he is, temporarily. That is, if you'll allow those two to turn in a story on your wedding. And when Kidd says a story, he means a story!
Tracy: I'm gonna be sick.
Dexter: Yes, dear. 'An Intimate Day with a Society Bride.'
Tracy: I am sick.
Dexter: Well, it's tough, but that's the way it seems to be.
Tracy: So I'm to be examined, undressed, and generally humiliated at fifteen cents a copy. And you, you ---. You're loving it.
Dexter: Am I, Red?

Tracy: [about George] You hardly know him.
Dexter: To hardly know him is to know him well.

Tracy: They aren't anybody's friends, but we're to pretend they are...Don't ask me, there's a good reason and it's my wedding, so please!
Dinah: I'll bet it's on account of father and that dancer in New York.
Tracy: Watching every little mannerism, jotting down notes on how we sit, stand, talk, and even move...And all in that horrible, snide, corkscrew English. Well, if we have to submit to it to save father's face, which [she covers Dinah's ears] incidentally doesn't deserve it, I'm for giving them a picture of home life that will stand their hair on end.
Margaret: No. Tracy, we must just be ourselves. Very much ourselves.

Mike: Age 32...General Manager, Quaker State Coal, controlling interest in the company owned by Seth Lord - that's the girl's father, huh?
Dexter: Uh, huh.
Liz: What a coincidence.
Mike: How did he meet her?
Dexter: Heaven brought them together, I imagine.
Mike: Now about this girl. Tracy Samantha Lord...Oh, what's her leading characteristic.
Dexter: [Mike is wearing a hat] She has a horror of men who wear their hats in the house. [leaves the room]
Liz: Leading characteristics to be filled in later.
Mike: I can fill them in right now: the young rich, rapacious, American female. There's no other country where she exists.
Liz: And would I change places with Tracy Samantha Lord for all her wealth and beauty? Oh boy just ask me.

Tracy: You're a kind of, um, writer, aren't you, Mr. Connor?
Mike: Sort of.
Tracy: A book?
Mike: Yes.
Tracy: Under what name do you publish?
Mike: My own. Macauley Connor.
Tracy: What's the 'Macauley' 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 -
Mike: In a little high school in South Bend, Indiana.
Tracy: South Bend! It sounds like dancing, doesn't it? You must have had a most happy childhood there.
Mike: Yeah, it was terrific.
Tracy: I'm so glad.
Mike: No, I didn't mean it that way.
Tracy: I'm so sorry. Why?
Mike: Uh, well, lack of where-with-all I guess.
Tracy: But that doesn't always cause unhappiness, does it? Not if you're the right kind of man. George Kittredge, my fiancee, never had anything either and he...

Tracy: Are either of you married?
Mike: No.
Liz: Uh, no.
Tracy: You mean you were, but now you're divorced...Well, come now Miss Imbrie, surely you're not ashamed of it.
Liz: Well, of course I'm not ashamed of it.
Mike: WHAT!?
Liz: Well, it was years ago. I was only a kid in Duluth.
Mike: Well, good heavens Liz! You never told me anything...
Liz: You never asked me.
Mike: Well, I know, but you...
Liz: Joe Smith. Hardware.
Mike: You're the darnedest girl, Liz.
Liz: I think I'm sweet.
Tracy: Duluth. That must be a lovely spot. It's west of here, isn't it?...And this is your first visit in Philadelphia? It's a quaint old place, don't you think, filled with relics. And how old are you, Mr. Connor?
Mike: Thirty.
Tracy: One book isn't much for a man of thirty. Well, I don't mean to criticize. You probably have other interests outside your work.
Mike: None, I mean unless... [He gestures to acknowledge his friendship with Liz]
Tracy: How sweet. Are you going together?
Liz: Well, that is an odd question I must say.
Tracy: Well, I don't see why. I think it's very interesting. Miss Imbrie. Don't you agree that if a man says he loves a girl, he ought to marry her?
Mike: Can she be human?
Tracy: Please, Mr. Connor! I asked Miss Imbrie a question.
Liz: That depends. I-
Tracy: I'll see what's keeping Mama. [she leaves the room]

Margaret: Are you one of the musicians?
Mike: No!
Margaret: Oh, of course, you're Junius's friend. Only you're not. Do you have any violin strings?
Mike: I have an aspirin. Will that work?
Margaret: I don't think so; It's for a violin. Oh well, no matter!

Margaret: The course of true love...
Mike: ...gathers no moss.

Mike: I guess this must be love.
George: Your guess is correct, Mr. Connor.
Tracy: I'm just his faithful old dog Tray.
George: Give me your paw!
Tracy: You've got it. [He takes her hand and kisses it]

Dexter: You don't look as well as when I last saw you, Kittredge. Oh, you poor fellow. I know just how you feel...Why, you don't look old enough to get married. Not even the first time. And then you never did. She needs trouble to mature her, Kittredge. Give her lots of it.
George: I'm afraid she can't count on me for that.
Dexter: No, that's too bad. Sometimes, for your own sake, Red, I think you should have stuck to me longer.
Tracy: I thought it was for life, but the nice Judge gave me a full pardon.
Dexter: Aw, that's the old redhead, no bitterness, no recrimination, just a good swift left in the jaw.

Uncle Willie: [posing as Mr. Lord] I don't suppose a man ever had a better or finer family. You know, I often wake up in the night and say to myself, Seth - you lucky dog. What have you done to deserve it all?
Margaret: And what have you?

Tracy: Uncle Willie! Uncle Willie! How nice.
Mr. Lord: I beg your pardon.
Tracy: Please go on into lunch, everyone. I want a word with Uncle Willie...
Mr. Lord: I'm afraid I don't understand.
Tracy: You never have, but you came anyway, didn't you?
Mr. Lord: Oh! Still Justice, with her shining sword - eh, daughter? Who's on the spot?
Tracy: We are, thanks to you - Uncle Willie.

Mike: Well, are you sure you're doing the right thing? You know what happens to girls like you when they read books like mine. They begin to think. That's bad.
Tracy: These stories are beautiful. Why, Connor, they're almost poetry.
Mike: Well, don't kid yourself - they are.
Tracy: I can't make you out at all, now.
Mike: Really? I thought I was easy.
Tracy: So did I. But you're not. You, you talk so big and tough - and then you write like this. Which is which?
Mike: Both, I guess.
Tracy: No. No I-I believe you put the toughness on to save your skin.
Mike: Do you think so?
Tracy: I know a little about that.
Mike: Do you?
Tracy: Quite a lot.

Tracy: When you can do a thing like that book, how can you possibly do anything else?
Mike: Well, you may not believe this, but there are people in this world that must earn their living.
Tracy: Of course, but people buy books, don't they?
Mike: Not as long as there's a library around. You know, that book of mine represents two solid years' work. And it netted Connor something under six hundred dollars.
Tracy: But that shouldn't be!...What about your Miss Imbrie?
Mike: Well, Miss Imbrie is in somewhat the same fix. She's a born painter, and might be a very important one. But Miss Imbrie must eat. And she also prefers a roof over her head to being constantly out in the rain and snow.
Tracy: Food and a roof.

Tracy: I have the most wonderful little house in Unionville. It's up on a hill with a view that would knock you silly. I'm never there except in the hunting season, and not much then, and I'd be so happy to know that it was of some real use to someone....There's a brook and a small lake, no size really, and a patch of woods, and in any kind of weather, it's the most wonderful --- Well anyhow, I'm, I'm so delighted that I can offer it to you...And don't think I'd come trooping in every minute because I wouldn't. I'd-I'd never come except when expressly asked to.
Mike: Well, you see the idea of artists depending upon a patron Lady Bountiful has more or less gone out.
Tracy: Oh! I see. That wasn't especially kind of you, Mr. Connor. I'm sorry to have seemed patronizing.

Dexter: Orange juice, certainly.
Tracy: Don't tell me you've forsaken your beloved whiskey and whiskeys.
Dexter: No, no, no, no. I've just changed their color, that's all. I'm going for the pale pastel shades now. They're more becoming to me. How about you, Mr. Connor? You drink, don't you? Alcohol, I mean.
Mike: Oh, a little.
Dexter: A little, 'little.' And you a writer? I thought all writers drank to excess and beat their wives. You know one time, I think I secretly wanted to be a writer.
Tracy: Dexter, would you mind doing something for me?...Get the heck out of here.
Dexter: Oh my dear, Red. I couldn't do that. It wouldn't be fair to you. You need me too much.
Tracy: Would you mind telling me just what it is you're hanging around for? [Mike begins to walk away] Oh no, no, no. Please don't go, Mr. Connor.
Dexter: 'Oh no, no, no. Please don't go Mr. Connor.' As a writer, this ought to be right up your street.
Tracy: Don't miss a word.

Dexter: I never saw you looking better, Red. You're getting that fine, tawny look.
Tracy: Oh, we're going to talk about me, are we? Goodie.
Dexter: It's astonishing what money can do for people, don't you agree, Mr. Connor? Not too much, you know - just more than enough. Now take Tracy for example. (There's) never a blow that hasn't been softened for her. Never a blow that won't be softened. As a matter of fact, she's even changed her shape - she was a dumpy little thing at one time.
Tracy: Only as it happens, I'm not interested in myself, for the moment.
Dexter: Not interested in yourself! You're fascinated, Red. You're far and away your favorite person in the world.
Tracy: Dexter, in case you don't know it -
Dexter: Of course, Mr. Connor, she's a girl who's generous to a fault.
Tracy: To a fault, Mr. Connor.
Dexter: Except to other people's faults. For instance, she never had any understanding of my deep and gorgeous thirst.
Tracy: That was your problem.
Dexter: Granted. But you took on that problem with me when you took me, Red. You were no help-mate there. You were a scold.
Tracy: It was disgusting. It made you so unattractive.
Dexter: A weakness, sure, and strength is her religion, Mr. Connor. She finds human imperfection unforgiveable. And when I gradually discovered that my relationship to her was supposed to be not that of a loving husband and a good companion, but - [He turns away from her] Oh, never mind.
Tracy: Say it.
Dexter: But that of a kind of high priest to a virgin goddess, then my drinks grew deeper and more frequent, that's all. [Mike slides off his chair and leaves them.]
Tracy: I never considered you as that, nor myself.
Dexter: You did without knowing it. Oh, and the night that you got drunk on champagne and climbed out on the roof and stood there, NAKED, with your arms out to the moon, wailing like a banshee - [Dexter laughs at the thought.]
Tracy: I told you I never had the slightest recollection of doing any such thing.
Dexter: I know. You drew a blank. You wanted to. Mr. Connor, what would you... [He turns and notices Mike has gone] Oh.
Tracy: A nice story for spies, incidentally.
Dexter: Too bad we can't supply photographs of you on the roof.

Dexter: [about marrying George] How in the world could you even think of it?
Tracy: Because he is everything you're not. He's been poor. He's had to work and he's had to fight for everything. And I love him, as I never even began to love you.
Dexter: Maybe so, but I doubt it. I think he's just a swing from me. But it's too violent a swing. Kittredge is no great tower of strength, you know, Tracy. He's just a tower.
Tracy: You hardly know him.
Dexter: To hardly know him is to know him well. And perhaps it offends my vanity to have anyone who is even remotely my wife re-marry so obviously beneath her.
Tracy: How dare you! Any of you in this day and age use such an idiotic...
Dexter: I'm talking about the difference in mind and spirit...Kittredge is not for you.
Tracy: You bet he's for me. He's a great man and a good man. Already, he's of national importance.
Dexter: You sound like Spy Magazine talking. But whatever he is, toots, you'll have to stick. He'll give you no out as I did.
Tracy: I won't require one.
Dexter: I suppose you'd still be attractive to any man of spirit, though. There's something engaging about it, this goddess business. There's something more challenging to the male than the, uh, more obvious charms.
Tracy: Really?
Dexter: Really. We're very vain, you know - 'This citadel can and shall be taken, and I'm the boy to do it.'
Tracy: You seem quite contemptuous of me all of a sudden.
Dexter: No, Red, not of you, never of you. Red, you could be the finest woman on this earth. I'm contemptuous of something inside of you you either can't help, or make no attempt to; your so-called 'strength' - your prejudice against weakness - your blank intolerance.
Tracy: Is that all?
Dexter: That's the gist of it; because you'll never be a first-class human being or a first-class woman, until you've learned to have some regard for human frailty. It's a pity your own foot can't slip a little sometime - but your sense of inner divinity wouldn't allow that. This goddess must and shall remain intact. There are more of you than people realize - a special class of the American Female. The Married Maidens.
Tracy: So help me, Dexter, if you say another word, I'll...
Dexter: I'm through, Red. For the moment, I've had my say.

George: You know, we're gonna represent something, Tracy, you and I in our home, something straight, sound, and fine. Then perhaps your friend Mr. Haven will be somewhat less condescending.
Tracy: George, you, you don't really mind him, do you? I mean, the fact of him...I mean...that he ever was my lord and master. That we ever were...
George: I don't believe he ever was, Tracy, not really. I don't believe that anyone ever was - or ever will be. That's the wonderful thing about you, Tracy.
Tracy: What? How?
George: Well, you're like some marvelous, distant, well, queen, I guess. You're so cool and fine and - and always so much your own. There's a kind of beautiful purity about you, Tracy, like, like a statue...
Tracy: George -
George: Oh, it's grand, Tracy. It's what everybody feels about you. It's what I first worshipped you for from afar.
Tracy: George, listen -
George: First, now, and always! Only from a little nearer now, eh, darling!
Tracy: I-I don't want to be worshipped. I want to be loved!
George: Well, you're that too, Tracy. Oh, you're that all right.
Tracy: I mean really loved.
George: But that goes without saying, Tracy.
Tracy: No. No, now it's you who doesn't see what I mean.

Tracy: Of course, inasmuch as you let us in for it in the first place.
Mr. Lord: Oh, do keep that note out of your voice, Tracy. It's very unattractive.
Tracy: Oh? How does your dancer friend talk? Or does she purr?
Margaret: Tracy!
Mr. Lord: Oh, it's quite all right, Margaret.
Tracy: Sweet and low, I suppose. Dulcet, very lady-like. You've got a heck of a nerve to come back here in your best-head-of-the-family manner and make stands and strike attitudes and criticize my fiancee and give orders and mess things up generally...
Margaret: Stop it instantly!
Tracy: I can't help it. It's sickening. As if he'd done nothing at all!
Mr. Lord: Which happens to be the truth.
Margaret: Anyway, it's not your affair, Tracy, if it concerns anyone. Well actually, I don't know whom it concerns except your father.
Mr. Lord: That's very wise of you, Margaret. What most wives fail to realize is that their husband's philandering has nothing whatever to do with them.
Tracy: Oh? Then, what has it to do with?
Mr. Lord: A reluctance to grow old, I think. I suppose the best mainstay a man can have as he gets along in years is a daughter - the right kind of daughter.
Tracy: How sweet!
Mr. Lord: No, no. I'm talking seriously about something I've thought over thoroughly. I've had to. I think a devoted young girl gives a man the illusion that youth is still his.
Tracy: Very important, I suppose.
Mr. Lord: Oh, very, very. Because without her, he might be inclined to go out in search of his youth. And that's just as important to him as it is to any woman. But with a girl of his own full of warmth for him, full of foolish, unquestioning, uncritical affection -
Tracy: None of which I've got -
Mr. Lord: None. 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.
Tracy: That's an awful thing to say to anyone.
Mr. Lord: Yes, it is indeed.
Tracy: So, I'm to blame for Tina Mara, am I?
Mr. Lord: To a certain extent, I expect you are.
Tracy: You coward.
Mr. Lord: No. But better that than a prig or a perennial spinster, however many marriages.
Margaret: Seth, that's too much.
Mr. Lord: I'm afraid it's not enough, Margaret. I'm afraid nothing is.
Tracy: What, what did you say I was?
Mr. Lord: Do you want me to repeat it?
Tracy: 'A prig and a...' You mean, you think I think I'm some kind of a goddess or something?
Mr. Lord: If your ego wants it that way, yes. Also, you've been talking like a jealous woman.
Tracy: 'A...' What's the matter with everyone all at once, anyhow?

Mrs. Lord: I think that dress hikes up a little behind.
Dinah: No, it's me that does.

Tracy: In China we'd be married by now - or perhaps it's only yesterday.
George: I'm going home after this dance.
Tracy: There was a Chinese poet who was drowned while trying to kiss the moon in the river. He was drunk.
George: I'd say as much.
Tracy: But he wrote beautiful poetry.

Mike: Doggone it, C.K. Dexter Haven. Either I'm gonna sock you or you're gonna sock me.
Dexter: Shall we toss a coin?

Mike: [drunk] Are you still in love with her?...Liz thinks you are...But of course, women like to romanticize [hiccup] about things...I don't know, I-I can't understand how you can have been married to her and still know so little about her?...You know, Tracy's no ordinary woman. And you said some things to her this afternoon I resented.
Dexter: Well, I apologize Mr. Connor.
Mike: That's quite all right. Quite all right. But when a girl is like Tracy, she's one in a million. She's, she's sort of like a, she's sort of like a...
Dexter: A goddess?
Mike: No, no, no. No, you said that word this afternoon. No. No, she's, she's sort of like a queen. A radiant glorious queen. And you can't treat her like other women.
Dexter: No, I suppose not. But then I imagine Kittredge appreciates all that.
Mike: Kittredge! Kittredge appreciates Kittredge. Ah, that fake man of the people. He isn't even smart.

Dexter: I always thought Kidd himself was the five-cent Kidd.
Mike: And what's that make you worth, C. K. Dexter Haven? Bringing us down here.
Dexter: But you know why I did that. To get even with my ex-bride. You told me so yourself...
Mike: Kidd's just using you like he uses everybody else. You don't know Kidd like I know him. The guy's colossal, he's terrific, he's got everybody fooled.
Dexter: No mean Machiavelli is smiling, cynical Sidney Kidd.

Dexter: You see, Kidd is holding a dirty piece on Tracy's father. This might stop him.
Mike: On Tracy's father?
Dexter: That's right.
Mike: Oh. Oh, so that's how Kidd got you to...That's how Liz and I were gotten in. Blackmail, huh? We all rode into this thing on a filthy blackmail. Well look. You use it. Use it with my blessings. I'm cooked. I'm through anyway. I'm not gonna hand in a story on this wedding. I'm gonna write one on Kidd.
Dexter: No, no. Let me do it. I don't have to tell him where I got my facts, OK?

Tracy: Aren't you coming Liz?
Liz: Well, it seems I've got to commit suicide first.

Liz: We've come for the body of Macaulay Connor.
Dexter: I'm so glad you came. Can you use a typewriter?
Liz: No, thanks, I've got one at home.

Dexter: You look beautiful, Red. [She slowly opens her eyes] Come on in.
Tracy: [drunk] Why?
Dexter: No particular reason. A drink, maybe?
Tracy: I don't drink.
Dexter: That's right, I forgot.
Tracy: I haven't.

Mike: [drunk] You going my way miss?
Tracy: [drunk] That's "Miss Goddess" to you.
Mike: Okay, Miss Goddess To Me.

Mike: The prettiest sight in this fine, pretty world is the privileged class enjoying its privileges.
Tracy: You're a snob, Connor.
Mike: No doubt, no doubt...Tracy. You can't marry that guy.
Tracy: George? I'm going to. Why, why not?
Mike: Well, I don't know. I thought I'd be for it at first, but you just don't seem to match up.
Tracy: Then the fault's with me.
Mike: Well, maybe so, but all the same now, you can't do it.
Tracy: No?
Mike: No.
Tracy: Come around about noon tomorrow. I mean today. Snob.
Mike: What do ya 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. Yes you are, and a complete one.
Mike: You're quite a girl, aren't you?
Tracy: You think?
Mike: Yeah, I know.
Tracy: Thank you, Professor. I don't think I'm exceptional.
Mike: You are though.
Tracy: I know any number like me. You ought to get around more.
Mike: In the upper class. No, no. No thank you.
Tracy: You're just a mass of prejudices, aren't you? You're so much thought and so little feeling, Professor.
Mike: Oh I am, am I?
Tracy: Yes you am, are you! Your intolerance infuriates me. I should think that of all people, a writer would need tolerance. The fact is, you'll never - you can't be a first-rate writer or a first-rate human being until you've learned to have some small regard for human fra...[Suddenly, she stops, her eyes widen, and she realizes that she is repeating Dexter's words. She turns] Aren't the geraniums pretty, Professor? Is it not a handsome day that begins, Professor?
Mike: All right, lay off that, Professor.
Tracy: Yes, Professor.
Mike: You've got all the arrogance of your class, all right, haven't you?
Tracy: Halt. What have classes to do with it? What do they matter except for the people in them? George comes from the so-called lower class. Dexter from the upper...Upper and lower, my eye. I'll take the lower, thanks.
Mike: If you can't get a drawing room.
Tracy: What do you mean by that?
Mike: My mistake.
Tracy: Decidedly. You're insulting.
Mike: I'm sorry.
Tracy: Oh, don't apologize.
Mike: Well, who's apologizing?
Tracy: I never knew such a man.
Mike: You wouldn't be likely to, dear, not from where you sit.
Tracy: Talk about arrogance.
Mike: Tracy.
Tracy: What do you want?
Mike: You're wonderful. [She laughs] There's a magnificence in you, Tracy.
Tracy: Now, I'm getting self-conscious. It's funny. I- Mike? Let's...
Mike: Yeah?
Tracy: I don't know - go up I guess, it's late.
Mike: A magnificence that comes out of your eyes, in your voice, in the way you stand there, in the way you walk. You're lit from within, Tracy. You've got fires banked down in you, hearth-fires and holocausts.
Tracy: I don't seem to you made of bronze?
Mike: [takes her in his arms] No, you're made out of flesh and blood. That's the blank, unholy surprise of it. You're the golden girl, Tracy. Full of life and warmth and delight. What goes on? You've got tears in your eyes.
Tracy: Shut up, shut up. Oh Mike. Keep talking, keep talking. Talk, will you?
Mike: No, no. I-I've stopped.
Tracy: Why? Has your mind taken hold again, dear Professor?
Mike: That's really all I am to you, is it?
Tracy: Of course, Professor.
Mike: Are you sure?
Tracy: Why, yes, yes, of course...
[Mike's forceful, passionate kiss stops her next word. She takes the melodramatic kiss and returns it]
Tracy: Golly. [She kisses him a second time] Golly Moses. All of a sudden, I got the shakes.
Mike: It can't be anything like love, can it?
Tracy: No! No! It mustn't be. It can't.
Mike: Would it be inconvenient?
Tracy: Terribly. Anyway, I know it isn't. Oh Mike, we're out of our minds.
Mike: And right into our hearts.
Tracy: That ought to have music.
Mike: It does, doesn't it? Tracy, you're so lovely.
Tracy: Oh, it's as if my insteps were melting away. What is it? Have I got feet of clay or something?
Mike: Tracy...
Tracy: It's not far to the pool. It's just over the lawn and in the birch-grove. It'll be lovely now.
Mike: Tracy, you're tremendous...
Tracy: Put me in your pocket, Mike.

Liz: Mike's only chance to ever become a really fine writer is to get fired. He's still got a lot to learn. I don't want to get in his way for a while.
Dexter: Suppose another girl came along in the meantime?
Liz: I'd scratch her eyes out, I guess, that is, unless she was going to marry somebody else the next day.

[Mike walks in, carrying a drunk Tracy]
Dexter: [To George] Now easy old man! [To Mike] She's not hurt?
Mike: No, no.
Tracy: Not wounded, sire, but dead.
Mike: It seems the minute she hit the water, the wine hit her.
George: Now look here, Connor.
Dexter: A likely story, Connor.
Tracy: Hello, Dexter. Hello, George. Hello, Mike. My feet are made of clay. Made of clay, did you know? Good niiiggghhhttt little man!
[Mike carries her upstairs]
Dexter: How are the mighty fallen! But if I know Tracy - and I know her well, she'll remember little of this. For the second time in her life, she'll draw quite a tidy blank.

[As George is about to hit Mike, Dexter instead steps in and hits Mike]
George: Hey listen! What right have...?
Dexter: A husband's, till tomorrow, Kittredge.
[George leaves]
Dexter: [to Mike] 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: Well, you're enough.

Tracy: I don't know what's the matter with me. I must have had too much sun yesterday. My eyes don't open properly.
Dexter: You should have taken a quick swim when you got home.
Tracy: [remembering the previous night] A swim? A swim!
Dexter: There, now they're open.
Dinah: That was just the beginning, and it was no dream!

Dexter: Perhaps I'll go look for some eye-openers in the pantry.
Uncle Willie: That's the first sane remark I've heard today. Come along, Dexter. I know a formula that's said to pop the pennies off the eyelids of dead Irishmen.
Dexter: [to Dinah] If the conversation should lag, you might tell Tracy about your dream.

Dinah: I dreamed I got up and went over to the window - and guess what I dreamed I saw coming over out of the woods?
Tracy: I haven't the faintest idea. A skunk?
Dinah: Well, sort of - it was Mr. Connor.
Tracy: Mr. Connor?
Dinah: Yes, with his both arms full of something. And guess what it turned out to be?
Tracy: What?
Dinah: You, and some clothes. Wasn't it funny? It was sort of like as if you were coming from the pool.
Tracy: The pool? I'm going crazy. I'm standing here solidly on my own two hands and going crazy. Then what?
Dinah: And after a while, I opened my door a crack and there he was in the hall, still coming along with you, puffing like a steam engine. His wind can't be very good.
Tracy: Then what?
Dinah: And you were sort of crooning.
Tracy: I never crooned in my life.
Dinah: I'm only saying what it sounded like. And then he - guess what?
Tracy: I couldn't possibly.
Dinah: Then he just sailed right into your room with you, and that scared me, so I got up and went to your door and peeked in to make sure you were all right. And guess what?
Tracy: What?
Dinah: You were. He was gone by then.
Tracy: Gone? Of course he was gone - he was never there!
Dinah: I know, Tracy.
Tracy: Well, I should certainly hope you did.
Dinah: I'm certainly glad I do, because if I didn't and in a little while I heard the minister say, 'If anyone knows any just cause or reason why these two should not be united in holy matrimony,' I just wouldn't know what to do. Dexter says it's a dream too.
Tracy: Dex-, you told Dexter all that?
Dinah: Not a word. Not a single word. But you know how quick he is.
Tracy: Dinah Lord, you little fiend, how can you stand there and...?

Tracy: Hello you.
Mike: Hello you.
Tracy: You look fine.
Mike: I feel fine.
Tracy: I had a simply wonderful evening. I hope you enjoyed it too.
Mike: I enjoyed the last part of it.
Tracy: Really? Why especially the last?
Mike: Well, Tracy, are you asking me?
Tracy: Oh, you mean the swim!...[They laugh together nervously] I did swim, and so forth, didn't we? Mike -
Mike: Oh, Tracy, darling...
Tracy: Mike -
Mike: What can I say to you? Tell me, darling.
Tracy: Not anything - don't say anything. And especially not 'darling.'
Mike: Then you're going through with it, huh?
Tracy: Through with what?
Mike: The wedding.
Tracy: Why, why shouldn't I?
Mike: Well, I made a funny discovery. And in spite of the fact that somebody's up from the bottom, he can still be quite a heel. And even though somebody else is born to the purple, he-he can still be a very nice guy. Boy - I-I'm just repeating what you said last night.
Tracy: I said a lot of things last night, it seems.
Mike: Okay, no dice. Also, no regrets about last night, huh?
Tracy: Why should I have?
Mike: Oh Tracy, you're wonderful.
Tracy: You don't know what I mean! I'm asking you - tell me straight out - tell me the reason why I should have - have! No - don't.

Tracy: I'm such an unholy mess of a girl...But never in my life, not if I live to be a hundred, will I ever forget how you tried to stand me on my feet again.
Dexter: You - you're in great shape.

Tracy: [about Dexter's wedding gift] It was beautiful - and sweet, Dex.
Dexter: Yes, yes. She was quite a boat, the True Love, wasn't she?
Tracy: Was, and is.
Dexter: My, she was yar.
Tracy: She was yar alright. I wasn't, was I?
Dexter: Not very. Oh, you were good at the bright work, though.
Tracy: I made her shine. Where is she now?
Dexter: I'm gonna sell it to Ruth Watrous.
Tracy: You're gonna sell the True Love, for money?
Dexter: Sure...Oh well, what's it matter? When you're through with a boat, you're through. Besides, it was only comfortable for two people. Unless you want her.
Tracy: No, no I don't want her.
Dexter: Well, I'm designing another one anyway, along more practical lines.
Tracy: What'll you call her?
Dexter: I thought the True Love II. What do you think?
Tracy: Dexter, if you call any boat that, I promise you I'll blow you and it out of the water. I'll tell you what you can call her if you like...in fond remembrance of me, the Easy Virtue.
Dexter: Shut up, Red! I can't have you thinking things like that about yourself.
Tracy: Well, what am I supposed to think when I - Oh I don't know. I don't know anything any more.
Dexter: That sounds very hopeful, Red. That sounds just fine.

Tracy: [reading George's letter to Dexter, Mike, and Liz] My dear Tracy: I want you to know that you will always be my friend, but your conduct last night was so shocking to my ideals of womanhood...that my attitude toward you and the prospect of a happy and useful life together has been changed materially. Your breach of common decency...
[George enters, criticising her for reading his letter out loud]
Tracy: It's only a letter from a friend. They're my friends too. [continues to read] ...certainly entitles me to a full explanation before going through with our proposed marriage. In the light of day, I am sure that you will agree with me. Otherwise, with profound regrets and all best wishes, yours very sincerely...Yes, George, I quite agree with you - in the light of day and the dark of night, for richer, for poorer, for better, for worse, in sickness and in health - and thank you so very much for your good wishes at this time...I wish for your sake, as well as mine, I had an explanation, but unfortunately I've none. You'd better just say, 'Good riddance,' George.
George: On the very eve of your wedding, an affair with another man.
Mike: Kittredge, it may interest you to know that the so-called 'affair' consisted of exactly two kisses and a rather late swim...All of which I thoroughly enjoyed, and the memory of which I wouldn't part with for anything... After which I deposited Tracy on her bed in her room, and promptly returned down here to you two - which doubtless you'll remember.
Tracy: Why? Was I so unattractive, so distant, so forbidding, or something - that - ?
George: Well, this is fine talk, too.
Tracy: I'm asking a question.
Mike: You were extremely attractive, and as for distant and forbidding, on the contrary. But you also were a little the worse - or the better - for wine, and there are rules about that.
Tracy: Thank you, Mike. I think men are wonderful.
Liz: We all go haywire at times and if we don't, maybe we ought to.
George: A man expects his wife to ...
Tracy: ...behave herself, naturally.
Dexter: To behave herself naturally.
George: If it hadn't been for that drink last night, all this might not have happened.
Tracy: Apparently nothing did. What made you think it had?
George: Well, it didn't take much imagination!
Tracy: Not much, perhaps, but just of a certain kind.
George: It seems you didn't think anything too well of yourself.
Tracy: That's the odd thing, George. Somehow I would have hoped that you'd think better of me than I did.
George: I'm not going to quibble, Tracy. All the evidence was there!
Tracy: And I was guilty. Straight off. That is, until I was proved innocent.
George: Let's let bygones be bygones. What do ya say?
Tracy: Yes, and goodbye George...You're too good for me, George. You're a hundred times too good...And I'd make you most unhappy, most - That is, I'd do my best to.

Tracy: [after Dexter has proposed] Dexter, are you sure?
Dexter: Not in the least. But I'll risk it. Will you?
Tracy: You bet! You didn't do it just to soften the blow?
Dexter: No.
Tracy: Nor to save my face?
Dexter: Oh, it's a nice little face.
Tracy: Oh Dexter, I'll be yar now, I promise to be yar.
Dexter: Be whatever you like, you're my redhead.

Tracy: How do I look?
Mr. Lord: Like a queen - like a goddess.
Tracy: And do you know how I feel?
Mr. Lord: How?
Tracy: Like a human. Like a human being.
Mr. Lord: Do you know how I feel?
Tracy: How?
Mr. Lord: Proud.

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