Amy Drexel: Marriage has changed you a lot Evelyn. You used to have plenty of zip and bounce and now you're so - oh, so good and bounceless. Does your husband beat you?
Evelyn Prentice: No, I wish he did. He'd have to be home to do it.
Amy Drexel: Not necessarily. I know gentleman who beat his wife up in a nightclub and she loved it too!
John Prentice: A jury in doubt is a jury in the bag.
Evelyn Prentice: Your friend, Chester Wylie, next to you. Besides being a very bad drinker, what is he?
Amy Drexel: Well, he thinks he's an artist. I met him in Paris. He has a studio in Greenwich Village and a shack in Connecticut. The modern school, you know, throw up a lot of lines, it looks like a skyscraper and then tell you its a sleeping dog and adores canned peas. But, in spite of that, I sort of likes him.
Amy Drexel: The last time I mixed a cocktail, four people eloped, the butler did it in a box and a man made love to his wife.
Evelyn Prentice: Oh, then, please do it.
Amy Drexel: Gin and French Vermouth.
Evelyn Prentice: Anything else?
Amy Drexel: Sure! Cognac, Absinthes and a dash of bitters.
Evelyn Prentice: Oh, Amy, you'll kill my guests. You know, these are respectable people.
Evelyn Prentice: I'm sick and tired of the word: law. And everything that goes with it.
Amy Drexel: He just asked me if I hadn't noticed a change in the attitude of the French people lately and I merely said that I hadn't. That they're still perpendicular when they're standing and horizontal when they're lying down.
Male Dining Guest: Do you think she'll be convicted?
Female Dining Guest: With her figure and 12 men on the jury? Not a chance!
Amy Drexel: Who was the broad shouldered thrill you were talking to?
Amy Drexel: A poet - an awful waste of broad shoulders.
Amy Drexel: Oh, now, Evelyn, don't tell me you're not tingling with excitement over the whole thing? A tall, good looking fellow, just dying to meet you. He'll probably write a poem to your eyebrows or something. Oh, you wouldn't be human if you didn't tingle a little bit.
Evelyn Prentice: You're too absurd for words.
John Prentice: Well, this is certainly good for the tummy.
Dorothy Prentice: I don't see why I have to do this exercise. My tummy is much flatter than Daddy's.
John Prentice: Well, am I insulted. Evelyn are you bringing up this child to have no respect for his father? Why, my tummy is as flat as a pancake.
Evelyn Prentice: Not a very thin pancake.
John Prentice: That's right! We haven't done the bicycle one yet and we want to do the bicycle one because they have lots of bicycles in Europe!
Lawrence Kennard: What is it they say? Only women and fools write a letter.
John Prentice: Will you tell me why it is that people always look like convicts on those passport photos?
John Prentice: Do you think she's guilty?
Albert - Butler: Well, I'm not so sure, sir.
John Prentice: Why?
Albert - Butler: She hasn't the look, sir.
Charles - Chauffeur: She don't sit for the flashlights, Mr. Prentice. Let's 'em shoot her any ole way with her hair messed and nose shiny.
John Prentice: And if she were guilty?
Albert - Butler: Well, don't you think, sir, that she would try to gain the favor of the public by looking pretty and soft and innocent like?
John Prentice: That's a very shrewd observation, Albert.
John Prentice: Less flattery and more cocktails.