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 »
Love's the only thing I've thought of or read about since I was knee-high. That's what I always dreamed of, of meeting somebody an...d falling in love. And when that remarkable thing happened, I was going to recite poetry to her for hours about how her heart's an angel's wing and her hair the strings of a heavenly harp. Instead I got drunk and hollered at her and called her a harpy.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
I see a lot of fog and a few lights. I like it when life's hidden. It gives you a chance to imagine nice things, nicer than they a...re.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Long accustomed to the use of European manufactures, [the Cherokee Indians] are as incapable of returning to their habits of skins... and furs as we are, and find their wants the less tolerable as they are occasioned by a war [the American Revolution] the event of which is scarcely interesting to them.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »