Woody Allen: Allan

Play It Again, Sam

Allan

Allan: That's quite a lovely Jackson Pollock, isn't it?
Museum Girl: Yes, it is.
Allan: What does it say to you?
Museum Girl: It restates the negativeness of the universe. The hideous lonely emptiness of existence. Nothingness. The predicament of Man forced to live in a barren, Godless eternity like a tiny flame flickering in an immense void with nothing but waste, horror and degradation, forming a useless bleak straitjacket in a black absurd cosmos.
Allan: What are you doing Saturday night?
Museum Girl: Committing suicide.
Allan: What about Friday night?

Allan: I wonder if she actually had an orgasm in the two years we were married, or did she fake it that night?

Dick: What? You got into a fight?
Allan: Yep.
Dick: With who?
Allan: Some guys were getting tough with Julie. I had to teach them a lesson.
Dick: Are you all right?
Allan: Yeah, I'm fine. I snapped my chin down onto some guy's fist and hit another one in the knee with my nose.

Allan: If that plane leaves the ground, and you're not on it with him, you'll regret it - maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon, and for the rest of your life.
Linda: That's beautiful!
Allan: It's from Casablanca; I waited my whole life to say it.

Linda: What reason did she give for wanting a divorce?
Allan: She wants a laugh; she doesn't laugh enough. Insufficient laughter; that's grounds for divorce. Oh, and skiing! She wants to go skiing. She wants to ski down a mountain laughing like an idiot.

Dick: Allan, you have invested your emotions in a losing stock, it was wiped out, it dropped off the board. Now what do you do Allan? You reinvest. Maybe in a more stable stock. Something with long term growth possibilities.
Allan: Who are you going to fix me up with, General Motors?

Allan: I can't do it. How does it look? I invite her over and then come on like a sex degenerate. What am I, a rapist?
Bogart: You're getting carried away. You think too much. Just do it.
Allan: We're platonic friends. I can't spoil that by coming on. She'll slap my face.
Bogart: Oh, I've had my face slapped plenty of times.
Allan: Yeah, but your glasses don't go flying across the room.

Allan: [Preparing room for guests] Got just the thing, my hundred yard dash medal.
Linda: Oh you're joking; you're not going to leave out a track medal.
Allan: Why not? I paid twenty dollars for it.

Allan: Here, I got you a present because it's your birthday.
Linda: How'd you know?
Allan: Well, you mentioned the date and I remembered because it's the same day my mother had her hysterectomy.

Linda: Allan, the world is full of eligible women.
Allan: Yeah, but not like Nancy. She was a lovely thing. I used to lay in bed at night and watch her sleep. Once in a while she would wake up and catch me. She would let out a scream.

Allan: I've got a big decision to make, do I go with Oscar Peterson or Bartók String Quartet No. 5?
Linda: Why don't you play Oscar Peterson and leave Bartók out so everybody can see it.

Allan: I had to go to Washington once when I was married, and even though I was the one leaving, I got sick; and when I returned, my wife threw up.