Osgood: You must be quite a girl.
Daphne: Wanna bet?

We're up the creek and you want to hock the paddle!


Sweet Sue: Idiot broads! Here we are, all packed, ready to leave for Miami, and what happens? The saxophone runs off with a Bible salesman, and the bass fiddle gets herself pregnant! Beinstock, I ought to fire you!
Beinstock: Me? I'm the manager of the band, not the night watchman.

Sig Poliakoff: You're the wrong shape. Goodbye!
Joe: What are you looking for - hunchbacks or something?
Sig Poliakoff: It's not the backs that worry me.

Constanze Mozart: Is it not good?
Salieri: It is miraculous.

Mozart: I actually threw the score on the fire, he made me so angry.
Salieri: You burned the score?
Mozart: No, no. My wife took it out in time.

Joe: What are you worried about? This job is going to last a long time.
Jerry: Well, suppose it doesn't?
Joe: Jerry, boy, why do you have to paint everything so black? Suppose you got hit by a truck. Suppose the stock market crashes. Suppose Mary Pickford divorces Douglas Fairbanks. Suppose the Dodgers leave Brooklyn!
Jerry: [Jerry notices the badge of an undercover agent at a nearby table] Joe...?
Joe: Suppose Lake Michigan overflows.
Jerry: Well, don't look now, but the whole town is underwater!

Emanuel Schikaneder: Look, I asked you if we could start rehearsals next week and you said yes.
Mozart: Well, we can.
Emanuel Schikaneder: So let me see it. Where is it?
Mozart: Here. It's all right here in my noodle. The rest is just scribbling. Scribbling and bibbling, bibbling and scribbling.

Sugar: Water polo? Isn't that terribly dangerous?
Junior: I'll say. I had two ponies drowned under me.

Salieri: My plan was so simple. It terrified me. First I must get the death mass and then, I must achieve his death.
Father Vogler: What?
Salieri: His funeral! Imagine it, the cathedral, all Vienna sitting there, his coffin, Mozart's little coffin in the middle, and then, in that silence, music! A divine music bursts out over them all. A great mass of death! Requiem mass for Wolfgang Mozart, composed by his devoted friend, Antonio Salieri! Oh what sublimity, what depth, what passion in the music! Salieri has been touched by God at last. And God is forced to listen! Powerless, powerless to stop it! I, for once in the end, laughing at him! The only thing that worried me was the actual killing. How does one do that? Hmmm? How does one kill a man? It's one thing to dream about it; very different when, when you, when you have to do it with your own hands.

Jerry: Now you've done it! Now you have done it!
Joe: Done what?
Jerry: You tore off one of my chests!

Jerry: Have I got things to tell you!
Joe: What happened?
Jerry: I'm engaged.
Joe: Congratulations. Who's the lucky girl?
Jerry: I am!

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