Nancy Blake:
You're so resourceful, darling, I ought to go to you for plots.

Sylvia Fowler:
You ought to go to someone.

Crystal Allen:
He almost stood me up for his wife.

Maggie:
You can't trust none of 'em no further than I can kick this lemon pie.

Sylvia Fowler:
What are you, pet?

Nancy Blake:
What nature abhors. I am an old maid, a frozen asset.

Peggy Day:
I wish I could make a little money writing the way you do.

Nancy Blake:
If you wrote the way I do, that's just what you'd make.

Mrs. Moorehead:
Well, cheer up, Mary; living alone has its compensations. Heaven knows it's marvelous being able to spread out in bed like a swastika.

Countess DeLave:
Get me a bromide - and put some gin in it.

Crystal Allen:
Thanks for the tip. But when anything I wear doesn't please Stephen, I take it off.

Sylvia Fowler:
Oh, you remember the awful things they said about what's-her-name before she jumped out the window? There. You see? I can't even remember her name so who cares?

Crystal Allen:
There's a name for you ladies, but it isn't used in high society, outside of a kennel.

Crystal Allen:
If you throw a lambchop into a hot oven, what's gonna keep it from gettin' done?

Sylvia Fowler:
You simply must see my hairdresser, I DETEST whoever does yours.

Sylvia Fowler:
Mary Haines, don't you have any pride?

Mary Haines:
No pride at all. That's a luxury a woman in love can't afford.

Maggie:
The first man who can explain how he can be in love with his wife - and another woman - is gonna win that prize they're always giving out in Sweden.

Miriam Aarons:
A woman's compromised the day she's born.

Mary Haines:
I've had two years to grow claws mother. Jungle red.

Crystal Allen:
I'm having him dine at my place. It's about time he found out I was a home girl.

Pat:
A home girl? Get her? Why don't you borrow the quintuplets for the evening?

Crystal Allen:
Because I'm all the baby he wants, pet.

Miriam Aarons:
You should have licked that girl where she licked you; in his arms. It's where you win in the first round and if I know men, it's still Custer's Last Stand.

Edith Potter:
When do you go to Africa to shoot, dear?

Nancy Blake:
As soon as my book is out.

Sylvia Fowler:
I don't blame you. I'd rather face a tiger any day than the sort of things the critics said about your last book.

Peggy Day:
He beats you. Lucy, how terrible.

Lucy:
Ain't it. When you think of the lot of women on this ranch who need a beatin' more than I do.

Sylvia Fowler:
Is that anyway to talk to me after all I've done for you?

Crystal Allen:
Done what?

Sylvia Fowler:
You didn't know a soul when you married Steven. After all, it wasn't easy to put you over.

Crystal Allen:
And who says you put me over.

Sylvia Fowler:
I've gotten you into some of our very best homes.

Crystal Allen:
Yes, with some of their very best insults.

Miriam Aarons:
Any ladle's sweet that dishes out some gravy.

Mary Haines:
I'll be doing the cooking so you know what he'll get.

Countess DeLave:
Oh, l'amour, l'amour, how it can let you down.

Miriam Aarons:
You're passing up a swell chance, honey. Where I spit no grass grows ever.

Lucy:
Them big, strong, red-headed men... they're fierce!

Crystal Allen:
Say, listen, I've worked too hard to land this meal ticket to make any false moves now.

Sylvia Fowler:
Why you sly little fox, you.

Countess DeLave:
Oh, poor creatures. They've lost their equilibrium because they've lost their faith in love. Oh l'amour, l'amour.

Maggie:
Now don't that sound just like a husband?

Edith Potter:
Oh, she can't help it. It's just her tough luck that she wasn't born deaf and dumb.

Mrs. Moorehead:
Besides, there's nothing like a good dose of being left alone to make a man appreciate his wife.

Miriam Aarons:
Listen, sister, when are you going to get wise to yourself?

Sylvia Fowler:
Did you get her innuendo?

Mrs. Moorehead:
I'm an old woman, my dear. I know my sex.

Corset model:
Our new one-piece lace foundation garment. Zips up the back and no bone.

Crystal Allen:
You noble wives and mothers bore the brains out of me. And I bet you bore your husbands, too.

Mary Haines:
You are a hard one.

Crystal Allen:
I can be soft on the right occasion.

Sylvia Fowler:
Our friend, Mrs. Stephen Haines, simply dotes on this... Her husband picked it out for her.... Perhaps you waited on him?

Crystal Allen:
I'm afraid I don't remember. You see, there are so many men who come in here.

Sylvia Fowler:
Awfully good looking... I'm sure you wouldn't overlook him.

Crystal Allen:
I'm sorry, but when one's mind is on one's own business...

Sylvia Fowler:
Of course... And as you say, you have so many men.