All About Eve (1950)

Birdie: What a story! Everything but the bloodhounds snappin' at her rear end.

Birdie: There's a message from the bartender. Does Miss Channing know she ordered domestic gin by mistake?
Margo: The only thing I ordered by mistake is the guests. They're domestic, too, and they don't care what they drink as long as it burns.

Lloyd Richards: Karen, let me tell you about Eve. She's got everything - a born actress. Sensitive, understanding, young, exciting, vibrant.
Karen: Don't run out of adjectives, dear.

Margo: Nice speech, Eve. But I wouldn't worry too much about your heart. You can always put that award where your heart ought to be.

Lloyd Richards: How about calling it a night?
Margo: And you pose as a playwright? A situation pregnant with possibilities and all you can think of is everybody go to sleep.

Eve: When you're a secretary in a brewery, it's pretty hard to make-believe you're anything else. Everything is beer.

Margo: Margo Channing is ageless - spoken like a press agent.
Lloyd Richards: I know what I'm talking about. After all, they're my plays.
Margo: Spoken like an author. Lloyd, I'm not twenty-ish, I'm not thirty-ish. Three months ago I was forty years old. Forty. Four O. That slipped out. I hadn't quite made up my mind to admit it. Now I suddenly feel as if I've taken all my clothes off.

Lloyd Richards: There comes a time that a piano realises that it has not written a concerto.
Margo: And you, I take it, are the Paderewski who plays his concerto on me, the piano?

Margo: Peace and quiet is for libraries.

Eve: If nothing else, there's applause... like waves of love pouring over the footlights.

Birdie: The bed looks like a dead animal act.

Bill Sampson: Have you no human consideration?
Margo: Show me a human, and I might have.

Margo: Lloyd, honey, be a playwright with guts. Write me one about a nice normal woman who just shoots her husband.

Lloyd Richards: The atmosphere is very MacBeth-ish... what has, or is about to, happen?

Karen: Where were we going that night, Lloyd and I? Funny, the things you remember and the things you don't.

Margo: Bill's thirty-two. He looks thirty-two. He looked it five years ago, he'll look it twenty years from now. I hate men.

Margo: Why so remote Addison? I should think you'd be at your protégé's side lending her moral support.
Addison DeWitt: Miss Casswell at the moment is where I can lend no support, moral or otherwise.
Margo: In the lady's, shall we say, lounge?
Addison DeWitt: ...being violently ill to her tummy.

Bill Sampson: Outside of a beehive, Margo, your behavior would not be considered either queenly or motherly.
Margo: You are in a beehive, pal. Didn't you know? We are all busy little bees, full of stings, making honey day and night. Aren't we honey?

Margo: You're not much of a bargain, you know. You're conceited and thoughtless and messy.

Margo: As it happens, there are particular aspects of my life to which I would like to maintain sole and exclusive rights and privileges.
Bill Sampson: For instance what?
Margo: For instance: you.