- Clinton Green: [Gesturing to a small island not too far from his yacht] You like it?
- Clinton Green: [They all look, while Clinton beams proudly] I love it. Tiny, tiny islands fascinate my ass. I've got this crazy broker in London that sends me these brochures on all the islands for sale all over the world. Little impoverished islands. A few thousand dollars cash, and you're practically king to six shepherds and their families. Or whatever. I read every word on every island. Then you know what I do? I tear them neatly in half and drop them in the wastebasket. Then I say to myself...
- Christine: [interrupting] I'm still weak, Clinton, but I'm eating solid food.
- Clinton Green: I say to myself, "If there's one thing I hate, it's to have my island speech interrupted."
- Clinton Green: [continues] I say to myself: "No, you poor people... you don't deserve a good king like me." That's what I say!
- Christine: Honey, let me hit you with a couple of names. Yul Brynner is Clinton. Paul and Joanne as Tom and Lee! I know, I hope it has enough content for 'em. Who have I got for Alice? Oh, I know, Carly Simon. I mean the soundtrack album alone will pay for her clothes. Now, now, don't scream. Virna Lisi. No, darling, as me!
- Clinton Green: [Clinton is trying to open the side door of the confessional as Philip watches. Both are dressed in monks' robes] They must have loused it up when they moved it.
- Philip: Can I help?
- Clinton Green: [annoyed] No, just piss off...
- [making a vague sign of the cross]
- Clinton Green: my son.
- Christine: Honey, would you drop me down a Tab? My mouth is so dry, I feel like they could shot "Lawrence of Arabia" in it.
- Philip: I like any game where you don't have to move.
- Clinton Green: Well you don't have to for this one... if you're smart enough.
- Philip: Darling, I must hang up now. One of my cast is peeing on my leg, something Garbo never did, even at her moodiest. 'Bye now.
- Clinton Green: Well, I'm thinking of calling it--don't be shocked, now--"The Last of Sheila". Fox is interested, Paramount's interested. The perfect woman's picture. Every bit as big as "Love Story".
- Christine: [Talking on the phone] I loved your wire and I can't wait to see you, really. I mean, I've lost 50 pounds. I'm a hollow reed. Kiss. Kiss.
- Christine: Dictate it tomorrow when you can get a secretary. You know, he killed her, she killed him.
- Christine: What a game! And now, Tom gets to write it; Philip gets to direct it; and what's-her-face, I mean, eh, my new client, Miss Alice Wood, gets to thrill you as Sheila Green. Who rose from call girl to columnist... Ha-ha-ha.
- Philip: Well, I think I'll turn in. I'm almost dead on my feet. So much to do tomorrow and still a few pages to type tonight.
- Christine: What do you mean, what do I mean? This is the same B-group that was at your house the night Sheila got bounced to the hedges.
- Philip: Nothing makes any--sense. Something Clinton said keeps rattling around in the back of my head, if I could remember it.
- Christine: Well, what can I say? I was, uh, I was a secretary, and I was just too eager. So I dropped a few names to the House Un-American Activities Committee. Then those people didn't work for a while. Now they work. Sometimes I try and get them work. Sometimes I see them on the street, and sometimes they cross the street. So what?