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 »
A dog will make eye contact. A cat will, too, but a cat's eyes don't even look entirely warm-blooded to me, whereas a dog's eyes l...ook human except less guarded. A dog will look at you as if to say, "What do you want me to do for you? I'll do anything for you." Whether a dog can in fact, do anything for you if you don't have sheep (I never have) is another matter. The dog is willing.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
For it does not follow because many books are written by persons born in America that there exists an American literature. Books w...hich imitate or represent the thoughts and life of Europe do not constitute an American literature. Before such can exist, an original idea must animate this nation and fresh currents of life must call into life fresh thoughts along its shores.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »