Gardiner Fraleigh: Call your baby! My wife's having a husband.
Michael Patrick 'Guns' Donovan: Aw, Monk, you're not gonna let three guys take on one - even if it is Gilhooley.
Sergeant Monk Menkowicz: I seen it done.
[Sir Charles Lytton kisses Princess Dala.]
Princess Dala: If I were my father, I'd have you tortured.
Sir Charles Lytton: No. If you were your father, I doubt very much if I would have kissed you.
Homer Smith: I'm gonna' build me a chapel.
Dr. Craven: Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, / Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore. / While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, / As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door./ "'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door. / Only this and nothing more."
Purple Pit Bartender: What'll it be?
Buddy Love: Aww... That's no way to talk. Tsk, tsk, tsk. "What'll it be?" That's no way to treat a customer. C'mere. Try it like this. Pay attention. You'll feel better and the customers'll be happier. Try this: "What'll it be? Hmmm?" Try that. Come on. We haven't got all night. Try it.
Purple Pit Bartender: What'll it be? Hmmm?
Buddy Love: Good! That was wonderful. Did anyone ever tell you you couldn't sing?
Irma La Douce: A painter once lived here. Poor guy, he was starving. Tried everything, even cut his ear off.
Nestor Patou: Van Gogh?
Irma La Douce: No, I think his name was Schwartz.
Terry 'Pintpot' Tankard: Are you the boss or something?
Ted Watson: I'm what they call the something manager. My advice to you is to be off.
Terry 'Pintpot' Tankard: You mean buzz off?
Ted Watson: No, but you're getting warm.