Justine:
Could we just turn out one more light?

Babette:
Don't die on me now, you son of a beech.

Rick:
Out there, somewhere, is a very, very, very unlucky saxophone player.

Max Gordon:
First they mutilate me, then they lose my luggage. I don't think I'm even gonna get credit for my Frequent Flyer miles.

Max Gordon:
Even if I didn't look like I was bobbing for French fries, I'd be thrilled to be with you.