Barton Keyes: Walter, you're all washed up.
Phyllis: We're both rotten.
Walter Neff: Only you're a little more rotten.
Jackson: Mr. Keyes, I'm a Medford man. Medford, Oregon. If I say it, I mean it. If I mean it, of course I'll swear to it.
Phyllis: I'm a native Californian. Born right here in Los Angeles.
Walter Neff: They say all native Californians come from Iowa.
Barton Keyes: Now look, Walter. A guy takes out an accident policy that's worth $100,000 if he's killed on the train. Then, two weeks later, he is killed on the train. And, not from the train accident, mind you, but falling off some silly observation car. You know what the mathematical probability of that is? One out of, oh, I don't know how many billions. And after that, the broken leg. No, it just, it just can't be the way it looks. Something has been worked on us.
Walter Neff: It's just like the first time I came here, isn't it? We were talking about automobile insurance, only you were thinking about murder. And I was thinking about that anklet.
Walter Neff: How could I have known that murder could sometimes smell like honeysuckle?
Phyllis: Do you make your own breakfast, Mr Neff?
Walter Neff: Well, I squeeze a grapefruit now and again.
Barton Keyes: This Dietrichson business. It's murder. And murders don't come any neater. As fancy a piece of homicide as anyone ever ran into. Smart, tricky, almost perfect. But... I think papa has it all figured out. Figured out and wrapped up in tissue paper with... pink ribbons on it.
Walter Neff: Do I laugh now, or wait 'til it gets funny?
Walter Neff: That was all there was to it.Nothing had slipped, nothing had been overlooked.There was nothing to give us away. And yet, Keyes, as I was walking down the street to the drugstore, suddenly, it came over me that everything would go wrong. It sounds crazy Keyes, but it's true, so help me, I couldn't hear my own footsteps. It was the walk of a dead man.
Jackson: These are fine cigars you smoke.
Barton Keyes: Two for a quarter.
Jackson: That's what I said.
Edward S. Norton: That witness from the train, what was his name?
Barton Keyes: His name was Jackson. Probably still is.
Walter Neff: Who'd you think I was anyway? The guy that walks into a good looking dame's front parlour and says, "Good afternoon, I sell accident insurance on husbands... you got one that's been around too long? One you'd like to turn into a little hard cash?"
Walter Neff: Suddenly it came over me that everything would go wrong. It sounds crazy, Keyes, but it's true, so help me. I couldn't hear my own footsteps. It was the walk of a dead man.