Torchy Blane: [Referring to Steve] Big stiff!

Dixie - Hatcheck Girl: Ain't he masterful?

Torchy Blane: Yeah, all he needs is a leopard skin.

Steve McBride: [as Torchy tries to get out of the car to go with Steve] No! You wait here!

Torchy Blane: Oh, but I want to go with you!

Steve McBride: This rat hole is no place for a woman!

Torchy Blane: But I'm a newspaperman!

Steve McBride: Well, you just sit quiet and maybe nobody'll notice it.

Torchy Blane: [Trying to into the crime scene room] You don't understand. I'm Torchy Blane!

Policeman Guarding Room: I don't care if you're flaming youth!

Torchy Blane: Maybe he's like Fitz - he thinks a woman's a wonderful thing.

Steve McBride: Nah, he couldn't be that dumb!

Dixie - Hatcheck Girl: I just love to snoop!

[last lines]

Steve McBride: You're great! You're colossal! You oughta be a detective.

Torchy Blane: So ought you.

Steve McBride: Hah. Don't make any difference what I was, I'd never be able to figure out what goes on in that dizzy brain of yours!

Torchy Blane: Gonna take you the rest of your life to find out!

Steve McBride: All right, I'll take the job!

Torchy Blane: Are you proposing to me?

Steve McBride: Well, yes!

Dolly Ireland: Say, you two, sh. This is a hospital.

Steve McBride: Oh, we're sorry.

Torchy Blane: Forgive us.

Steve McBride: Maybe she'll feel better if I take her out and feed her. Let's eat.

Torchy Blane: Oh, darling.

[they kiss]

'Tiny' Torgenson: Me? Well, I like it like I am. A little rough, a little tough, a little nasty.

Fitz Mularkey: Poor little Tiny. Didn't even carry a gun. He used to say it was guns and bodyguards that got guys killed.

Torchy Blane: You know, you're all right DIxie. You ought to make a good newspaper man.

Dixie - Hatcheck Girl: But, I might not make a good newspaper man; but, I might make a good newspaper woman.

Steve McBride: You have those birds hypnotized.

Torchy Blane: Well, you're one up on me. You got 'em goofy.

Steve McBride: Maybe you know who bumped off Torgenson.

Torchy Blane: Not off hand; but, with a little time and something to eat, I might be able to help ya.

Steve McBride: Ah, why don't you go home?

Torchy Blane: There's nothing in the icebox. Besides, I like your company.

Torchy Blane: Tunics are going out.

Steve McBride: Huh?

Torchy Blane: Tunics are going out.

Steve McBride: What the Sam Hill are you talking about?

Torchy Blane: Tunics - they're going out of style and I've got two of 'em.

Torchy Blane: I don't think it'll get you anything.

Steve McBride: Why not?

Torchy Blane: Because you can't charge these guys with anything. You can only hold them overnight. You'll bring in 20 all together. You'll have to do some shellacking. So, if you work on each one 3 hours - that's 60 hours and you can't hold 'em that long.

Steve McBride: You're just one of these destructive critics. You say everything a guy does is rotten, but, you don't build up anything yourself.

Fitz Mularkey: This is Torchy Blane, the best newspaper gal in town!

Steve McBride: Quite a library, Fitz.

Fitz Mularkey: You like it?

Steve McBride: Yeah!

Fitz Mularkey: I hired a college kid to pick these books out. I don't read much myself.

Steve McBride: [picks out a book] "Sonnets from the Portuguese."

Fitz Mularkey: Well, I guess I couldn't read that if I wanted to.

Dolly Ireland: Well it looks like Ireland's on. I won't say goodbye.

Fitz Mularkey: That's right. It's your last night too isn't it?

Dolly Ireland: Want me to sing my last song for you?

Fitz Mularkey: Yeah, will ya?

Dolly Ireland: [singing] Why do I have to sing a torch song, When there is a love song in my heart...

Tom Carney: Chuck's here. He's pretty drunk and looking for trouble. Eddie and Boze have got him in your office; but, he says he won't leave without seeing you.

Fitz Mularkey: Okay. I'll see him.

Tom Carney: And take it easy, Fitz. Remember, he packs a rod.

Steve McBride: You drive me batty! You get all steamed up about something and then you throw cold water on it.

Steve McBride: Come on, kid. Let's call it a day.

Torchy Blane: Aw, gee, Skipper. You're the tops!

Gahagan: What a day! What a day. I feel like a million bucks. I could write a poem, I could. A poem I could write. A poem! I could.

Gahagan: Hypnotized, By the green in your eyes...

Gahagan: Boy, oh, boy, do I feel good. I feel like I could smack somebody right in the jaw!

Torchy Blane: Can I give you a lift, Skipper?

Steve McBride: Are you trying to haunt me?

City Editor: Listen, Torchy, are you working for me or Steve McBride? Now, I have another assignment for you...

Torchy Blane: Aw, listen, Maxie, give me a break, will ya? That big palooka can't even think without me around. I've got a couple of angles on this case.

City Editor: Why don't you marry that guy?

Torchy Blane: That's one of the angles.

Steve McBride: Any you boys remember carrying a black patent leather bag for a lady? It had the initials D.I. on it.

1st Redcap: No, suh.

Redcap Getting Tip: Yes, suh, I remember seein' a black bag. I put the lady on the Twilight Flyer.

Steve McBride: Aw, you're aces with me, kid. You know, Torchy, I like you and I ought to be hung for slamming you around the way I have.

Torchy Blane: Skipper...

Steve McBride: Yeah, from now on the rough stuff is out, as far as you're concerned. I'm gonna treat you right.

Torchy Blane: Oh, Skipper!

Steve McBride: All right, I was wrong.

Torchy Blane: Right!

Gahagan: What a night. What a night! I love the night. And the stars. They're like a symphony. What do I see?

Steve McBride: Well, Fitz, I hope this will be a lesson to you.

Fitz Mularkey: Yeah, it's what I get for trying to step out of my own class. I know where I belong now.

Steve McBride: I'll never be able to figure out what goes on in that dizzy brain of yours!