Agnes Lowzier: Is Harry there?

Philip Marlowe: Yeah, yeah, he's here.

Agnes Lowzier: Put him on, will you?

Philip Marlowe: He can't talk to you.

Agnes Lowzier: Why?

Philip Marlowe: Because he's dead.

Norris: Are you attempting to tell me my duties, sir?

Philip Marlowe: No, just having fun trying to guess what they are.

Vivian: So you're a private detective. I didn't know they existed, except in books, or else they were greasy little men snooping around hotel corridors. My, you're a mess, aren't you?

Vivian: I don't like your manners.

Marlowe: And I'm not crazy about yours. I didn't ask to see you. I don't mind if you don't like my manners, I don't like them myself. They are pretty bad. I grieve over them on long winter evenings. I don't mind your ritzing me drinking your lunch out of a bottle. But don't waste your time trying to cross-examine me.

Vivian: You go too far, Marlowe.

Marlowe: Those are harsh words to throw at a man, especially when he's walking out of your bedroom.

General Sternwood: Do you like orchids?

Philip Marlowe: Not particularly.

General Sternwood: Ugh. Nasty things. Their flesh is too much like the flesh of men, and their perfume has the rotten sweetness of corruption.

Carmen Sternwood: You're not very tall are you?

Philip Marlowe: Well, I, uh, I try to be.

Philip Marlowe: You've got a touch of class, but I don't know how far you can go.

Vivian Sternwood Rutledge: A lot depends on who's in the saddle.