Elizabeth Imbrie: What's this room? I've forgotten my compass.
Macaulay Connor: I'd say, south-by-southwest parlor-by-living-room.

Macaulay Connor: This is the Bridal Suite. Would you send up a couple of caviar sandwiches and a bottle of beer?
Margaret Lord: What? Who is this?
Macaulay Connor: This is the Voice of Doom calling. Your days are numbered, to the seventh son of the seventh son.
Margaret Lord: Hello? Hello?
Tracy Lord: What's the matter?
Margaret Lord: One of the servants has been at the sherry again.

Tracy Lord: I never knew such a man.
Macaulay Connor: You're not likely to dear. Not from where you sit.

Macaulay Connor: You've got all the arrogance of your class, haven't you?
Tracy Lord: 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, the upper. Well?
Macaulay Connor: Well...
Tracy Lord: Mac the night watchman is a prince among men, Uncle Willie is a... pincher. Upper and lower my eye. I'll take the lower, thanks.
Macaulay Connor: If you can't get a drawing room.
Tracy Lord: What does that mean?
Macaulay Connor: My mistake.
Tracy Lord: Decidedly. You're insulting!
Macaulay Connor: Sorry.
Tracy Lord: Oh, don't apologize!
Macaulay Connor: Well, who's apologizing?
Tracy Lord: I never knew such a man.
Macaulay Connor: You wouldn't be likely to, from where you sit!
Tracy Lord: Talk about arrogance.
Macaulay Connor: Tracy.
Tracy Lord: What do you want?
Macaulay Connor: [pause] You're wonderful.

Tracy Lord: Oh Dexter you're not doing it just to soften the blow?
C. K. Dexter Haven: No.
Tracy Lord: Nor to save my face?
C. K. Dexter Haven: Oh, it's a nice little face.
Tracy Lord: Oh Dexter, I'll be yar now, I promise to be yar.
C. K. Dexter Haven: Be whatever you like, you're my redhead.

I'm testing the air. I like it but it doesn't like me.

Macaulay Connor

Put me in your pocket, Mike.

Tracy Lord

The prettiest sight in this fine pretty world is the privileged class enjoying its privileges.

Macaulay Connor

C. K. Dexter Haven: Of course, Mr. Connor, she's a girl who is generous to a fault.
Tracy Lord: To a fault.
C. K. Dexter Haven: Except to other people's faults.

Margaret Lord: We both might face the facts that neither of us has proved to be a very great success as a wife.
Tracy Lord: We just picked the wrong first husband.

Tracy Lord: Dexter, say something.
C. K. Dexter Haven: Well, I...
Tracy Lord: Oh, I'm such an unholy mess of a girl.
C. K. Dexter Haven: Well, now, that's not conversation.

Tracy Lord: These stories are beautiful. Why, Mike, they're almost poetry.
Macaulay Connor: Don't kid yourself, they are.

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