Tell me you’re relieved.

Poor, sad souls, itching to be switching roles. Lucy wants to do what Jessie does, Jessie wants to be what Lucy was.

The candle wick was wet, the Champagne was flat, the timing was wrong. A little regret and that's that—I’ll get along.

Here is the church, here is the steeple. Open the door and see all the crazy married people!

I was taught when the prince and the dragon fought, that the dragon was always caught—now I don't even wince when it eats the prince.

The slotted spoon can catch the potato.

Long ago, all we had was that funny feeling, saying someday we'd send ‘em reeling. Now it looks like we can! Someday just began . . .

It's our time, breathe it in: worlds to change and worlds to win. Our turn coming through, me and you, pal, me and you!

Hurry, run! Run! Run!

So thank you for the twenty-seven dinner plates and thirty-seven butter knives and forty-seven paper weights and fifty-seven candle holders!

Could I bury my rage with a boy half your age in the grass? Bet your ass!

Take me to a world where I can be alive.

See the pretty girl in that mirror there? Who can that attractive girl be?

The sun sits low, diffusing its usual glow.

It's his father's fault that the curse got placed and the place got cursed in the first place!

There's a lot that's at stake, but you've stalled long enough ‘cause you're still standing stuck on the stuff on the steps.

Alive and alone on a Saturday night is dead.

Have a smoke, have a coke.

Beadle isn't bad till you smell it and notice how well it's been greased. Stick to priest!

His needs were few, his room was bare.

I've got those "God-why-don't-you-love-me-oh-you-do-I'll-see-ya-later" blues.

Lose your poise.

Deep down inside him, he's no good!

Freely flows the blood of those who moralize.

Anything you do, let it come from you.

You’ve changed.

Given up booze, given up coke, given up girls, don't even smoke. Got a bad break and wound up broke, Jesus, my life is one sad joke . . .

You got nothing to hit but the heights!

Good things get better, bad get worse. Wait, I think I meant that in reverse.

Somebody force me to care.

Are we or are we unique?

My darling, we’ll simply say no.

Once you see, you can't stay blind.

Where are we to go? Where are we ever to go?

Loving you is why I do the things I do.

Isn't she beautiful? There she is— there she is, there she is, there she is. Mama is everywhere, he must have loved her so much . . .

Silver’s good enough for me.

I’d be in the Follies! I’d be in a cabaret!

Danced in my scanties, three bucks a night was the pay, but I'm here.

We just want to be loved!

The harder to get, the better to have.

‘Tis your delight, sir, catching fire from one man to the next!

Bumbum bum bumbumbum bumbum bum . . .

With so many of them fleeing, conferring, decreeing, I find myself agreeing with the ancient haiku.

Isn't it awful? God, how depressing— Me, I'm a hundred. You, you're a blessing—

I'm calm, I'm calm, I'm perfectly calm. Indifferent to tensions and shocks.

Get yourself a gimmick and you, too can be a star!

And I thought it was the end of the world.

How we kissed and how we clung—remember, darling? We were foolish, we were young—more than we knew.

It's the other national anthem, saying, if you want to hear—it says "Bullshit!"