Dr. Brandt: The smell of burning flesh. Screams of agony mixed with the whistle of the falling bombs. "Take them," he said. "Take them." And he thrust the bag at me, at the villa. for the New Order. He knew he would be killed. Still he thought only of the New Order. Only about the dream. A dream for which I have lived. A dream that you have destroyed.
Lionel: Savage says, "Watch out for blondes with cute names. They look innocent and beautiful, but they can kill you. This one was named Tink. She stood on the threshold of my Hollywood apartment, her dress tighter than two sailors on liberty. The Russian-made Tokerev 3.5 automatic swaying slightly in her alabaster hand. She screamed at me and fired. I took the lead high in my should and felt that trapdoor open. I was down the rabbit hole again... down in the darkness where Father Time wears a frocked coat and holds your life like a conductor's watch, the seconds ticking down to zero. I'd been here before. Death's Waiting Room... the outer office to Eternity." Savage says, "The ones with the cute names are hiding something. Tink was hiding a killer instinct. Yeah, watch out for blondes with cute names. But I hadn't, and now the old man in the frocked coat was writing in his book under "Foolish," under "Dead," he was writing my name... 'Mark Savage, Private Eye'."
Ruth LaCross: Ooh, this cab smell awful! What makes taxis smell so bad?
Driver: Drunks throw up in them.
Herman LaCross: Bull! When the going gets rough, the dress clerks jump out. The tigers jump in and make the profits. Now it's been that way, it's going to continue to be that way. What you have to find out is, are you a dress clerk or a tiger?
Lionel: I'm trying to be nice to your folks, but they're treating me like a giant bag of dog chow.
Lionel: "I was down there again. Sitting on the old man's faded black couch, the one with the bloodstains. Old men and dead hookers lounged there with me. The voices of my companions came through a rusty wire and spilled out at me through a broken speaker screeching my obituary... Mark Savage, Hollywood tough guy, iced by a dippy dame with a ten-pound Russian cannon. I should have known she was a wrongo the day her mother came into my office spilling cigarette ashes and wheezing at me through yellow teeth. 'Find my daughter,' she said. I found her and she'd punched my ticket with cold lead and sent me to this place. Savage says if you want to know about a girl, take a look at her mother, 'cause that's what she'll be in twenty years. Her mother was a killer and, under all that beauty, so was she. I had ignored my own advice and so I got what I deserved."
Lionel: Lionel Whitney. I'm a, uh, stockbroker. Wingtips, conservative tie, Aqua Velva--the whole depressing package.
Lionel: I have this theory: beware of girls with cute names. They're hiding something.
Martha Gribbs: That's why you're marrying a girl named Bunny?
Martha Gribb: You be Colonel Mustard. He's an adventurer like you. And I'll be Miss Scarlet. She's sexy and has a past.
Lionel: Do you think daughters turn out to be like their mothers? I mean, do they end up looking and talking like their mothers 20 years later?
Martha Gribb: I don't know, Lionel. I guess it's possible. I suppose you'll have to roll the dice and find out.
E.L.: What is this?
Construction Worker: Sardines and peanut butter.
E.L.: Nobody puts sardines on peanut butter.
Construction Worker: You do if you like it.
E.L.: Then you eat it.
E.L.: So would you lighten up, Lionel? Look, it's just a petty car beef, man. They're not going to tube you for that.
Lionel: Tube me?
E.L.: Yeah, I mean, look, 'especially since it's your first offense, man. Let's see, you draw a little probation, you watch your step, keep your nose clean, and the most they can do is take away your voting rights. And the way things are, who can pick a candidate?
Lionel: No, let me guess. You're an astronaut, right? You and John Glenn and Mickey Mouse got a bad re-entry and you just happened to land in the front seat of that limo.
E.L.: Lionel, calm down.
Lionel: Calm down? Calm down?!? You... you put me in the middle, between the American Nazi Party and the Mob, and you say calm down?? I'm gonna kill you. Whoever you are, I'm gonna catch you and kill you.
E.L.: Reason can never prevail in an atmosphere of violence.
E.L.: Hey, man, you're mad at me. I--I can get behind that. I mean, things have been a little strange. But, look. Do you believe in situational time warps, Lionel? That's where space and time come together in little eddies of disaster, sometimes sweeping innocent lives into areas of total darkness...
Lionel: Gibberish. Gibberish! You see, that's the kinda stuff that gets me mad.
Lionel: Mr. Okahamu says that karate should never be used in anger.
E.L.: Mr. Okahamu is grossly misinformed.
Jason Wheelright: You're a jailhouse lawyer, eh?
E.L.: No, sir. Two years, Yale Law. I was bounced out for rigging a student election and skipping to Tijuana with the funds. You should have been with me, Lionel.
Jason Wheelright: Is this guy on the level?
Lionel: Almost never.
Lionel: Savage says that, "All's well that ends well. But this one had ended with Charlene back in New York and me with a lump in my throat. Oh yeah, I was gonna make it. I was gonna be clear. But all the rest of my days, I'd carry her with me like a twenty-pound weight on my heart. I'd smell that perfume wafting up out of my dreams to sting my cheek with tears. Yeah, I was gonna be okay. She was gone, but I was still Mark Savage, Private Eye."