The Dark Corner

Hardy Cathcart:
How I detest the dawn. The grass always looks like it's been left out all night.

Bradford Galt:
There goes my last lead. I feel all dead inside. I'm backed up in a dark corner, and I don't know who's hitting me.

Bradford Galt:
I'm clean as a peeled egg. No debts, no angry husbands, no payoffs... nothin'.

Bradford Galt:
I can be framed easier than "Whistler's Mother".

Bradford Galt:
One thing led to another, and he led with his right.

Hardy Cathcart:
[whispering] Tell him you need two hundred dollars to leave town.

Stauffer, alias Fred Foss:
[on the phone to Galt] I need two yards, powder money.

Mrs. Kingsley:
Isn't my Turner divine? Look at it! It grows on you.

Hardy Cathcart:
You make it sound like a species of fungus.

Hardy Cathcart:
I found the portrait long before I met Mari. And I worshipped it. When I did meet her, it was as if I'd always known her... and wanted her.

Woman in Gallery:
Oh, how romantic.

Hardy Cathcart:
If you prefer to be maudlin about it, perhaps.

Miss Dennis, Saleswoman:
This is one of Donatello's finest pieces.

Bradford Galt:
How much is it?

Miss Dennis, Saleswoman:
$40,000.

Bradford Galt:
Wrap it up.

Policeman in Galleries:
Hey, Mac. Do you suppose anybody in his right mind ever buys a piece of junk like that?

Policeman in Galleries:
Sure they do. That is "aht."

Stauffer, alias Fred Foss:
It didn't work. It was a busto-crusto.

Hardy Cathcart:
Take, uh, Tony for instance. I'd never imagine him to be interested in... Lucy Wilding, but he is.

Mari Cathcart:
It's not true! He's always loathed her.

Hardy Cathcart:
He loathed her rather intimately, I'm afraid.

Kathleen:
You should have William Powell for a secretary.

Bradford Galt:
William Powell... who's he?

Kathleen:
Don't ya ever go to the movies? He's a detective, in "The Thin Man."

Hardy Cathcart:
The enjoyment of art is the only remaining ecstasy that is neither immoral nor illegal.

Kathleen:
My father was a major-league umpire. Well, what else [at the Tudor Penny Arcade] can I beat you at?

Bradford Galt:
What other kinds of games do you like to play? You know, we've got some great playgrounds up around 52nd Street.

Kathleen:
Among them your apartment?

Bradford Galt:
Why, just a coincidence.

Kathleen:
I haven't worked for you very long, Mr. Galt, but I know when you're pitching a curve at me, and I always carry a catcher's mitt.

Bradford Galt:
No offense. A guy's got to score, doesn't he?

Kathleen:
Not in my league. I don't play for score, I play for keeps - "said she with a smile."

Bradford Galt:
Why don't you come over here, where you belong? [Bradford pats the couch that he is laying on]

Kathleen:
[Kathleen throws Bradford his mended suit jacket and proceeds to walk out Bradford's front door] Well, if you're feeling that much better, perhaps I better go home. [scene fades]

Kathleen:
What's done to you is done to me.

Hardy Cathcart:
Lovers of beauty never haggle over price, Tony.

Stauffer, alias Fred Foss:
It didn't work. It was a busto crusto.

Hardy Cathcart:
[Cathcart is at a total loss as to what this means] A what?

Stauffer, alias Fred Foss:
A flop.

Kathleen:
But remember, I can get brand new tough guys for a dime a dozen.

Bradford Galt:
Here, get yourself two dozen.

[Bradford tosses two dimes at Kathleen across the table]

Kathleen:
[Kathleen pushes them back towards Bradford] I'd rather pick you up at a rummage sale. I'm a sucker for bargains. Speaking of bargains, if you can't get nines in those nylons, I'll take eight-and-a-half or even ten. Doesn't matter.

Bradford Galt:
I'll make a note of it.

Bradford Galt:
I'll be at the Cathcart galleries absorbing culture. I don't want to die ignorant.

Bradford Galt:
The stain... The ink, baby, the ink. I smeared ink on his white suit up in my office.

Kathleen Stewart:
What of it?

Bradford Galt:
He'd have to have the suit cleaned, wouldn't he? The cleaners would have his address, wouldn't they?

Kathleen Stewart:
Well, this is a pretty dirty town. Cleaning places grow on every street like mushrooms.

Bradford Galt:
Yeah, but they don't do their own cleaning.

Kathleen Stewart:
I've never been followed before.

Bradford Galt:
That's a terrible reflection on American manhood.

Bradford Galt:
You know, I think I'll fire you and get me a Tahitian secretary.

Kathleen Stewart:
You won't like them; those grass skirts are a fire hazard.

Hardy Cathcart:
Love is not the exclusive province of adolescence, my dear; it's a heart ailment that strikes all age groups-like my love for you. My love for you is the only malady I've contracted since the usual childhood diseases. And it's incurable.

Bradford Galt:
[replying to Anthony Jardine] You, on the level. Why, for six bits you'd hang your mother on a meathook.