Farewell, My Lovely

Moose Malloy:
She's cute, cuter than lace pants.

Philip Marlowe:
She gave me a smile I could feel in my hip pocket

Phillip Marlowe:
You've been beaten up, slapped, shot full of hop untill you were as crazy as two waltzing mice, now let's see you do something really tough, like getting up.

Helen Grayle:
To hell with polite drinking.

Philip Marlowe:
I sparred with the night clerk for a couple of minutes, but it was like trying to open a sardine can after you broke off the metal lip. There was something about Abraham Lincoln's picture that loosened him up.

Philip Marlowe:
This car sticks out like spats at an Iowa picnic.

Detective #1:
We found your card on his body.

Philip Marlowe:
They give 'em out with bubblegum.

Philip Marlowe:
The house itself wasn't much. It was smaller than Buckingham Palace & probably had fewer windows than the Chrysler building.

Philip Marlowe:
It was one of those transient motels, something between a fleabag & a dive.

Billy Rolfe:
You're not a detective, Marlowe, you're a slot machine. You'll do anything for six bits.

Moose Malloy:
You a private Dick?

Philip Marlowe:
No. I'm your fairy godmother.

Philip Marlowe:
What was she like... this Velma?

Moose Malloy:
Cute... cute as lace pants.

Lt. Nulty:
[during an interrogation] All right, Marlowe, let's start again, huh? From the beginning.

Philip Marlowe:
I've told you twice. Now, why don't I make it easy on all of us and tell you what you want to hear? This fairy hired me to exchange a necklace for cash for a friend of his. We drove out to the woods. I shot him. I buried the fifteen grand. I drove my car back to his place, walked fifteen miles back to the woods, knocked myself on the head and then called the police.

Frances Amthor:
I think you're a very stupid person. You look stupid, you're in a stupid business, and you're on a stupid case.

Philip Marlowe:
I get it. I'm stupid.

Philip Marlowe:
[voiceover, opening lines] This past spring was the first that I felt tired and realized I was growing old. Maybe it was the rotten weather we'd had in L.A. Maybe the rotten cases I'd had. Mostly chasing a few missing husbands and then chasing their wives once I found them, in order to get paid. Or maybe it was just the plain fact that I am tired and growing old.

Philip Marlowe:
[on being shaken by the lapels] Now wait a minute. I've been slapped, scratched, punched, knocked unconscious, drugged, and shot at, looking for your Velma, so quit trying to make a milkshake out of my insides, will you?

Philip Marlowe:
[looking at the dead bodies of Moose and Velma] Moose never would have hurt her. It didn't matter to him that she hadn't written in 6 years. It didn't matter that she turned him in for a reward. The big lug loved her... and if he was still alive... it wouldn't matter to him that she'd pumped 3 bullets into him... What a world.