The Crystal Ball

Toni Gerard:
It's, uh... it's almost like fate, isn't it?

Madame Zenobia:
Hmm. Fate's fine as long as you take it by its own two horns and make it come your way.

Brad Cavanaugh:
Don't be a flirt. You might get hurt.

Madame Zenobia:
Men are men. They're all got the same talk.

Madame Zenobia:
I don't know why Indians should get so all-fired smart, just 'cause they died.

Mrs. Smythe:
I'm a phobophobe.

Toni Gerard:
You're a what?

Mrs. Smythe:
A phobophobe. That means I'm afraid of being afraid.

Toni Gerard:
I see.

Mrs. Smythe:
Well, I don't understand it either, but according to psychoanalysts, it's all because I was a child.

Jo Ainsley:
Oh, what a lovely corsage. Too bad I'm not a horse.

Brad Cavanaugh:
Toni, I met your old aunt.

Toni Gerard:
You... you met my old aunt?

Brad Cavanaugh:
Mmm-hmm. And next time, tell her she needs a shave.

Toni Gerard:
Where we going?

Brad Cavanaugh:
I'm going to take you out and BEAT you to death. Hey, come here!

Toni Gerard:
How men can be so simple. Good night. Trueboy knows more about women than you do.

Brad Cavanaugh:
And who is Trueboy?

Toni Gerard:
One of Grandpa's hogs.

Brad Cavanaugh:
Hogs?

Toni Gerard:
Well, hogs are very nice people, thank you. You wouldn't catch one of them going around telling somebody they loved them when they're going to "eventually" somebody else.

Brad Cavanaugh:
[angered] And who did I go around telling them I loved them?

Toni Gerard:
I suppose you weren't whooping for your dead Indian right out on that dance floor.

Brad Cavanaugh:
When and where I whoop for my dead Indian is my affair, I believe. And what that's gotta do with telling anyone I love them, I don't know.

Toni Gerard:
Well... you... coyote! Let me tell you something. If that's the way it comes out of the top drawer, you can just slam it.

Jo Ainsley:
I'm none the least intelligent, thank heavens. I don't believe in women being intelligent. That's a man's job. Women shouldn't think, they should just feel.