Vivian Rutledge: Speaking of horses, I like to play them myself. I like to see them work out a little first. See if they're front ...runners or come from behind. Philip Marlowe: Find out mine? Vivian Rutledge: I think so. Philip Marlowe: Go ahead. Vivian Rutledge: I'd say you don't like to be rated. You like to get in front, open up a lead, take a little breather in the back stretch, and, then, come home free. Philip Marlowe: You don't like to be rated yourself. Vivian Rutledge: I haven't met anyone yet that could do it. Any suggestions? Philip Marlowe: I can't tell till I've seen you over a distance of ground. You've got a touch of class, but I don't know how ... how far you can go. Vivian Rutledge: A lot depends on who's in the saddle.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Vivian Rutledge: So you do get up. I was beginning to think perhaps you worked in bed like Marcel Proust. Philip Marlowe: Who...'s he? Vivian: You wouldn't know him. French writer. Marlowe: Come into my boudoir.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
There they are at last, Miss Rutledge. The will-o-the-wisps with plagues of fortune. San Francisco, the latest newborn of a great ...republic.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Newspapermen are either drunkards or idealists, Miss Rutledge. I'm afraid I'm both. But however soiled his hands, the journalist g...oes staggering through life with a beacon raised.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Swan/Mary Rutledge: Oh no, no. I'm not running away. I came here to get something, and I'm going to get it. Col. Cobb: Yes, b...ut San Francisco is no place for a woman. Swan: Why not? I'm not afraid. I like the fog. I like this new world. I like the noise of something happening.... I'm tired of dreaming, Colonel Cobb. I'm staying. I'm staying and holding out my hands for gold--bright, yellow gold.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Swan/Mary Rutledge: Listen, listen to them. Men like to yell, don't they? They imagine they are millionaires already. Col. Co...bb: More than that. They've all left lives behind them they didn't like. They all dream of being reborn in the new land. Swan: Do they? Or do they dream of gold? Col. Cobb: No, no, Miss Rutledge. Behind that fog, lies not only sand filled with gold, but a new empire for men of vision. Swan: Men of vision. Oh, I love the fine names men give each other to hide their greed and lust for adventure.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
I am Anne Rutledge who sleep beneath these weeds, Beloved in life of Abraham Lincoln,... Wedded to him, not through union, But through separationLESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Celestial roundsmen under the aegis of the 'New England Watch and Ward Society' inaugurated a virulent campaign against 'lewd and ...indecent' books and plays. What is salacity? It was like the time-honored stickler: How old is Ann? Other cities indulged in loud guffaws over the antics of the Boston censors as the latter grew hotter and hotter and more and more bothered over the perplexing problem. 'Banned in Boston' came to be the novelist's and dramatist's dream of successful publicity--'a natural' in advertising.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Her fist of a face died clenched on a round pain; And sculptured Ann is seventy years of stone.... These cloud-sopped, marble hands, this monumental Argument of the hewn voice, gesture and psalm, Storm me forever over her graveLESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »