Dear Brigitte

Professor Robert Leaf:
I don't care how smart they are or how many degrees they've got or how that nuclear gadget of theirs works on the drawing board. An accident is still an accident and sooner or later they're gonna blow us all to hell-and-gone-outta-here. It's only a question of time before one of those fellas shows up some morning with a hangover and pulls the wrong switch or puts too much uranium in the plutonium and WHAM! And don't think I didn't tell 'em so either.

Professor Robert Leaf:
Uh, Ras, I'd like to talk to ya.

Vina Leaf:
Oh. Man to man stuff.

Erasmus 'Ras' Leaf:
Already? I'm only eight.

Professor Robert Leaf:
I couldn't love Panny any more if she were my own daughter.

Vina Leaf:
And whose, pray, do you think she is?

The Captain:
You keep outta this, George.

Professor Robert Leaf:
Yeah, George. Put some clothes on your wife and go to bed.

Bank Manager:
My dear lady, I don't know how bankers in England operate, but here in America we have a...

Vina Leaf:
In England, my dear sir, the bankers are acutely aware of the fact that the young people of today are the banking customers of tomorrow and they make every effort to instill confidence both in their management and in their arithmetic.

Professor Robert Leaf:
How much is one thousand seven hundred and twenty six times eight thousand seven hundred and twenty six?

Erasmus 'Ras' Leaf:
Fifteen million sixty one thousand and seventy six.

Professor Robert Leaf:
They'll say there goes that Erasmus Leaf, he's a mathematician.

Erasmus 'Ras' Leaf:
Gosh.

Professor Robert Leaf:
Now Panny, there is absolutely no deal in which I would sanction your brother's countenance to sop up the body fluids of countless sweaty little boys.

Dean Sawyer:
Robert, you know, one of these days I'm going to accept one of your resignations.

Vina Leaf:
When I married that skinny Rhodes scholar, I never expected champagne suppers every night. I have ways of preparing spaghetti that I haven't even tried yet.

The Captain:
Artist, George is. He paints nudes. In plain talk, nekkid women.

Orville:
Say, that's a very usefull kid. Ya ever try him on anything practical?

Professor Robert Leaf:
They're going to stick 'im into that experimental school of theirs, the one where they train the little junior exploders to be tomorrows big exploders.

Unemployment Office Clerk:
What kind of work do you do anyway?

Professor Robert Leaf:
I'm a poet.

Unemployment Office Clerk:
Oh, boy. This morning so far I've had an oyster opener, a balloonist, a circus fat lady who claimed she went on a diet and lost her job, and now I got me a poet.

Professor Robert Leaf:
Well, I AM a poet. [thumbing through a book] I'm in this anthology. My name is in that book.

Unemployment Office Clerk:
You see this? [plopping down a phone book on the counter] I'm in this book, but that don't make me a telephone.