That Forsyte Woman

Soames Forsyte:
[In a disparaging way as Young Jolyon is leaving] I understand you're teaching now at some sort of second-rate art school... or something.

Young Jolyon Forsyte:
[Replying as he is leaving] The art school is first rate. I'm second rate.

Soames Forsyte:
I wish you'd allow me to choose your friends.

Irene Forsyte:
As you choose my dresses?

Soames Forsyte:
I think you'd admit that I've made you one of the best-dressed women in London. Surely you have no complaints on that score.

Old Jolyon Forsyte:
I arranged a respectable marriage for the boy.

Irene Forsyte:
Uncle Jolyon, do you think marriage without love can be respectable.

Irene Forsyte:
For once I wasn't thinking about the Forsythes.

Soames Forsyte:
Then it's about time you did, my dear. When you marry a Forsythe, you become a Forsythe.

Irene Forsyte:
[Seeing Soames for the first time in years in a Parisian gallery] Five years! It's quite a long time! How is London?

Soames Forsyte:
[Sadly] Just as gray as ever. Perhaps a little grayer... now.