The Damned Don't Cry

[Ethel and George kiss]

Ethel Whitehead:
You're asking for trouble, aren't you?

George Castleman:
I never got anything yet worthwhile, without trouble. Only don't take this for anything more than it's worth.

Ethel Whitehead:
It might be worth more than you think.

Ethel Whitehead:
Don't talk to me about self-respect. That's something you tell yourself you got when you got nothing else.

Ethel Whitehead:
He's promised me the world, Marty, and I've got to have it.

Ethel Whitehead:
The only thing that counts is that stuff you take to the bank, that filthy buck that everybody sneers at, but slugs to get.

Patricia Longworth:
[at the roulette table] What's happened to that system of yours, darling? I thought you always quit while you were still ahead.

Ethel Whitehead:
I've been experimenting with a new one: stay to the bitter end. [to croupier] If you'll write out the obituary, I'll give you a check.

Nick Prenta:
[intercepting and examining the check she's offered for her gambling losses] Your check's no good, Mrs. Forbes.

Ethel Whitehead:
[coldly] My check's good anywhere.

Nick Prenta:
[tearing up the check] Except here.

Ethel Whitehead:
[looks annoyed]

Nick Prenta:
That's right. I'm fresh. But I'm also generous. Tonight, you're the guest of the house. Now tomorrow night, that's different. Tomorrow night you can lose your shirt. [looks her over and bends closer] I'll even pay to see that.

Martin Blackford:
[when she wants to stop helping a gangster friend] This isn't a party you can leave when you get bored. We could have left, you and I, a long time ago. We were only guests then. But we stayed too late.

Sandra:
I'm gettin' myself a new partner!

Ethel Whitehead:
You should get yourself a couple of other new items, if you'll pardon the expression.

Ethel Whitehead:
Don't talk to me about self-respect. That's something you tell yourself you got when you got nothing else. What kind of self-respect is there living on aspirin tablets and chicken salad sandwiches? [beat] Look Marty, the only thing that counts is that stuff you take to the bank, that filthy buck that everybody sneers at, but slugs to get. [beat] I know how you feel. You're a nice guy. But the world isn't for nice guys. You've got to kick and punch and belt your way up because nobody's going to give you a lift. You've got to do it yourself, cuz nobody cares about us except ourselves.