Freddie Miles: I want this job of yours, Tommy. I was just saying, you live in Italy, sleep in Dickie's house, eat Dickie's food, wear his clothes, and his father picks up the tab. If you get bored, let me know, I'll do it.
Dickie Greenleaf: Now you'll find out why Ms. Sherwood shows up for breakfast, Tom. It's not love, it's my coffee machine.
Marge Sherwood: Dick? Dickie? I know you can hear me. What am I doing, chasing you around...? I was going to say I would count to three and if you didn't open the door, but I won't count any more. On you. I won't count on you any more. Whatever it is, whatever you've done or haven't done, you've broken my heart. That's one thing I know you're guilty of, and I don't know why, I don't know why, I just don't know why.
Dickie Greenleaf: You're so white! Have you ever seen a guy so white, Marge? Grey, actually.
Tom Ripley: It's just an undercoat.
Dickie Greenleaf: Say again?
Tom Ripley: You know a primer.
Dickie Greenleaf: That's funny. Margie likes that 'cause she's so white too.
Marge Sherwood: Yes, I do and you're not funny.
Marge Sherwood: Tom was telling me about his journey over. Made me laugh so hard I almost got a nosebleed.
Dickie Greenleaf: Is that good?
Marge Sherwood: Shut up.
Dickie Greenleaf: I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm despicable. But I love you. Do you love me?
Peter: Officially, there are no Italian homosexuals. It makes Michelangelo and Leonardo very inconvenient.
