Carmen Sternwood: You're not very tall are you?
Philip Marlowe: Well, I, uh, I try to be.
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.
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.
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.
Philip Marlowe: So many guns around town, and so few brains.
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.
