Dottie:
No, I'm not in Spain, I'm in agony that's where I am!

Lloyd Fellowes:
Brooke?

Brooke:
Yes?

Lloyd Fellowes:
Are you in?

Brooke:
In?

Lloyd Fellowes:
Are you there?

Brooke:
What?

Lloyd Fellowes:
You're out. I'll call again.

Lloyd Fellowes:
And God said, "Where the Hell is Tim?" And there the Hell was Tim. And God said, "Let there be doors that open when they open, and close when they close."

Tim Allgood:
Do something?

Lloyd Fellowes:
Doors!

Tim Allgood:
I was getting the bananas for the sardines.

Lloyd Fellowes:
DOORS!

Tim Allgood:
Doors?

Lloyd Fellowes:
I bet God had a stage manager that understood English!

Dottie:
Yes, everything's nice and paranormal around here.

Dottie:
Lucky I can't see far with this leg.

Dottie:
Am I in Spain? No I'm not in Spain, I'm in agony, that's where I am!

Selsdon Mowbray:
Am I on?

Selsdon Mowbray:
Oh, I thought I heard my voice.

Lloyd Fellowes:
I don't know what you're waiting for. Her eighteenth birthday?

Gary:
Lloyd, since we're stopped, I just want to say that I've worked with a lot of directors. Some were geniuses, and some were bastards. But I've met one who was just so, totally... I don't know.

Lloyd Fellowes:
Thank you Gary, that's very touching. Now get off the fucking stage.

Lloyd Fellowes:
-Hamlet himself, would you believe, has come down with a psychological problem!

Lloyd Fellowes:
Tim, let me tell you about my life in the big apple. I've got Hamlet's ghost on the phone for an hour every night complaining that Polonius is sucking sourballs through his speeches. Gertrude is off every afternoon doing a soap, and Claudius is off doing a commercial for Gallo wine. Hamlet himself, would you believe, has come down with a psychological problem. Now Brooke rings me to say she's very unhappy here and she's got herself a doctor's certificate for nervous exhaustion. I haven't got the time to find and rehearse a new Vicky. I have just one afternoon, while Hamlet sees his shrink and Ophelia starts divorce proceedings, to cure Brooke of her nervous exhaustion with a little whiskey... you've got the whiskey, some flowers... you've got money for the flowers, and a certain fading bedside manner. So I haven't come to the theater to hear about other people's probelms. I've come to be taken out of myself, and preferably not put back again.

Lloyd Fellowes:
And on we blindly stumble!

Lloyd Fellowes:
I've started to know what God felt like when he sat out there in the darkness, creating the world.

Belinda:
And what did he feel like, Lloyd my dear?

Lloyd Fellowes:
Very pleased he'd taken his valium.

Selsdon:
What's next on the bill?

Lloyd Fellowes:
Well, Selsdon, I thought we'd try a spot of rehearsal.

Selsdon:
Oh, I won't, thank you.

Lloyd Fellowes:
You won't?

Selsdon:
No, you all go ahead. I'll just sit and watch. This is... beer in the wardrobe, is it?

Belinda:
No, my dear, he wants us to rehearse.

Selsdon:
Yes, but I think we've got to rehearse, haven't we?

Lloyd Fellowes:
Yes, Selsdon. Right. Well done. I knew you'd think of something.

Belinda:
You don't think he's...?

Dotty:
Given half a chance, he would!

Brooke:
Would what?

Belinda:
Ooh, that'll make Lloyd choke on his Gummi Bears...

Poppy Taylor:
Would you just listen to me, because I really have to tell you... I'm PREGNANT!

Lloyd Fellowes:
...and curtain, perhaps?

Lloyd Fellowes:
Think of the first performance as the dress rehearsal. If we can just get through tonight- doors and sardines. That's what it's all about, doors and sardines. Getting on, getting off. Getting the sardines on, getting the sardines off. That's fast. That's-that's the theatre. That's life.

Lloyd Fellowes:
I'm just God, Belinda, love. I'm just the one with the English degree. I don't *know* anything.

Frederick Dallas:
Alright, I see all that.

Lloyd Fellowes:
Oh no.

Frederick Dallas:
I just don't know why I take them.

Lloyd Fellowes:
Freddy love, why does anyone do anything? Why does that other idiot go out of the front door holding two plates of sardines? I mean, I'm not getting at you, love.

Gary:
Of course not, Lloyd. I mean, why do I? Jesus, when you come to think about it, why *do* I?

Lloyd Fellowes:
Who knows?

Gary:
Who knows. You see, Freddy?

Lloyd Fellowes:
The wellsprings of human action are deep and cloudy. Maybe something happened to you when you were a very, very, very small child that made you frightened to let go of groceries.

Belinda:
Or it could be genetic.

Gary:
Yes, or it could be... you know.

Lloyd Fellowes:
Could-could well be.

Frederick Dallas:
Of course, thank you. I understand all that, but...

Lloyd Fellowes:
Freddy love, I'm telling you I don't know. I-I don't think the *author* knows. I don't know why the author came into this industry in the first place. I don't know why any of us came into it.

Frederick Dallas:
All the same, if you could just give me a reason I could keep in my mind.

Lloyd Fellowes:
Alright, I'll give you a reason then. You carry those groceries into the study, Freddy honey, because it's just slightly after midnight, and we're not going to be finished before we open tomorrow night - Correction. Before we open TONIGHT!

Lloyd Fellowes:

Selsdon Mowbray:
When I think, I used to do banks. When I remember, I used to do boullion vaults. Now what am I doing? I'm breaking out of paper bags.

Lloyd Fellowes:
It's like the band playing on while the Titanic sank.

Lloyd Fellowes:
None of us will get out of here alive; they've got big pictures of us in the lobby! I'm not running away. I'm just not the kind of person who gets a kick out of watching an automobile crash, especially when it's my automobile!