That's why we must never take anything for granted.
— If we don't respect the past, we'll find it harder to build our future.
— Where did you read that?
— I made it up. I thought it was rather good.
— It's too good. One thing we don't want is a poet in the family.
— Would it be so bad?
— The only poet peer I am familiar with is Lord Byron. And I presume you all know how that ended.
Everything seems so golden one minute, then turns to ashes the next.
— Well?
— Well what?
— Mary, the last time I saw you, you threw me out for saying I loved you. Now you've whistled and I'm here, but I don't know why.
— I'm sorry, Mama, but you know me. I have to say what I think.
— Why? Nobody else does.
— So what's Harold doing now?
— His idee fixe is yachts. Bigger yachts, faster yachts. Something with yachts.
— Is he happy?
— He's much too busy to find out.
— They do say there's a wild man inside all of us.
— If only he would stay inside.
I'm not foul, Mr Carson. I'm not the same as you, but I'm not foul.
— I may be a Socialist but I'm not a lunatic.
— I'm not sure Papa knows the difference.
— I've been good to you, Ivy. I've been polite. I've taken you to the theater and to the cinema. I've never been that nice to any girl before.
— Am I supposed to feel lucky?
— It's dishonest to grab a bloke for all he can offer without giving him nothing in return. I don't think it's playing the game.
— Well, I'm not playing your game. You'd better get used to that idea!
— Now, the moment you feel tired, you tell me, and I'll take over whatever it is you're doing.
— Oh, will you now?
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