Eve Kendall:
What happened with your first two marriages?
Roger Thornhill:
My wives divorced me.
Eve Kendall:
Why?
Roger Thornhill:
They said I led a dull life.
Eve Kendall:
I tipped the steward five dollars to seat you here if you should come in.
Roger Thornhill:
Is that a proposition?
Eve Kendall:
I never discuss love on an empty stomach.
Roger Thornhill:
You've already eaten!
Eve Kendall:
But you haven't.
Roger Thornhill:
Now you listen to me, I'm an advertising man, not a red herring. I've got a job, a secretary, a mother, two ex-wives and several bartenders that depend upon me, and I don't intend to disappoint them all by getting myself "slightly" killed.
Roger Thornhill:
And what the devil is all this about? Why was I brought here?
Phillip Vandamm:
Games, must we?
Roger Thornhill:
Not that I mind a slight case of abduction now and then, but I have tickets for the theater this evening, to a show I was looking forward to and I get, well, kind of *unreasonable* about things like that.
Phillip Vandamm:
With such expert playacting, you make this very room a theater.
Roger Thornhill:
No. No, Mother, I have not been drinking. No. No. These two men, they poured a whole bottle of bourbon into me. No, they didn't give me a chaser.
Phillip Vandamm:
Has anyone ever told you that you overplay your various roles rather severely, Mr. Kaplan?
Roger Thornhill:
When I was a little boy, I wouldn't even let my mother undress me.
Eve Kendall:
Well, you're a big boy now.
Man at Prairie Crossing:
That's funny, that plane's dustin' crops where there ain't no crops.
Roger Thornhill:
In the world of advertising, there's no such thing as a lie. There's only expedient exaggeration.
Clara Thornhill:
You gentlemen aren't REALLY trying to kill my son, are you?
[
Thornhill is wearing sunglasses to hide his identity]
Ticket Seller:
Something wrong with your eyes?
Roger Thornhill:
Yes, they're sensitive to questions.
Roger Thornhill:
The moment I meet an attractive woman, I have to start pretending I have no desire to make love to her.
Eve Kendall:
What makes you think you have to conceal it?
Roger Thornhill:
She might find the idea objectionable.
Eve Kendall:
Then again, she might not.
Eve Kendall:
It's going to be a long night.
Roger Thornhill:
True.
Eve Kendall:
And I don't particularly like the book I've started.
Roger Thornhill:
Ah.
Eve Kendall:
You know what I mean?
Roger Thornhill:
Ah, let me think. Yes, I know exactly what you mean.
Eve Kendall:
Roger O. Thornhill. What does the O stand for?
Roger Thornhill:
Nothing.
Eve Kendall:
I'm a big girl.
Roger Thornhill:
Yeah, and in all the right places, too.
Eve Kendall:
How do I know you aren't a murderer?
Roger Thornhill:
You don't.
Eve Kendall:
Maybe you're planning to murder me right here, tonight.
Roger Thornhill:
Shall I?
Eve Kendall:
Please do.
Eve Kendall:
I want you to do a favor for me. A big, big favor.
Roger Thornhill:
Name it.
Eve Kendall:
I want you to leave right now, stay far away from me, and don't come near me again. We're not going to get involved. Last night was last night, and it's all there was, and it's all there is. There isn't going to be anything more between us. So please. Goodbye, good luck, no conversation, just leave.
Phillip Vandamm:
What possessed you to come blundering in here like this? Could it be an overpowering interest in art?
Roger Thornhill:
Yes, the art of survival.
Eve Kendall:
He followed me here from the hotel.
Leonard:
He was in your room?
Roger Thornhill:
Sure. Isn't everybody?
Roger Thornhill:
What's wrong with men like me?
Eve Kendall:
They don't believe in marriage.
Roger Thornhill:
I've been married twice.
Eve Kendall:
See what I mean?
Roger Thornhill:
I may go back to hating you. It was more fun.
Roger Thornhill:
I don't like the games you play, professor.
The Professor:
War is hell, Mr. Thornhill, even when it's a cold one.
Roger Thornhill:
I don't like the games you play, Professor.
The Professor:
War is hell, Mr. Thornhill. Even when it's a cold war.
Roger Thornhill:
If you fellows can't whip the VanDamm's of this world without asking girls like her to bed down with them and probably never come back, perhaps you should lose a few cold wars.
The Professor:
I'm afraid we're already doing that.
Leonard:
You surely would have suspected. Why else would you have decided not to tell Miss Kendall why our little treasure here has a belly full of microfilm?
Phillip Vandamm:
You seem to be trying to fill mine with rotten apples.
Leonard:
Sometimes the truth does taste like a mouthful of worms.
Phillip Vandamm:
Truth? I've heard nothing but innuendos.
Leonard:
Call it my women's intuition, if you will. But I've never trusted neatness. Neatness has always been the form of very deliberate planning.
Leonard:
You're not taking her on the plane with you?
Phillip Vandamm:
Of course I am. Like our friends, I too believe in neatness, Leonard. This matter is best disposed of from a great height, over water.
Roger Thornhill:
How does a girl like you get to be a girl like you?
Eve Kendall:
Lucky, I guess.
Roger Thornhill:
I didn't realize you were an art collector. I thought you just collected corpses.
Roger Thornhill:
Apparently the only performance that will satisfy you is when I play dead.
Phillip Vandamm:
Your very next role, and you'll be quite convincing, I assure you.
Roger Thornhill:
Now, what can a man do with his clothes off for twenty minutes? Couldn't he have taken an hour?
Eve Kendall:
You could always take a cold shower.
Phillip Vandamm:
That wasn't very sporting, using real bullets.
The Professor:
If I thought there was any chance of changing your mind, I'd talk about Miss Kendall, of whom you so obviously disapprove.
Roger Thornhill:
Yes, for using sex like some people use a flyswatter.
Roger Thornhill:
You're police, aren't you? Or is it FBI?
The Professor:
FBI, CIA, ONI... we're all in the same alphabet soup.
Roger Thornhill:
When we get out of this, you can ride the train with me again.
Eve Kendall:
Is that a proposition?
Roger Thornhill:
It's a proposal, sweetie!
Phillip Vandamm:
Seems to me you fellows could stand a little less training from the F.B.I. and a little more from the Actor's Studio.
Bureaucrat:
So horribly sad. How is it I feel like laughing?
Roger Thornhill:
I don't like the way Teddy Roosevelt is looking at me.
Roger Thornhill:
Sorry love, I'm sentimental.
Roger Thornhill:
[
to Eve] Who are you kidding? You have no feelings to hurt.
Eve Kendall:
You've got taste in clothes, taste in food.
Roger Thornhill:
[
necks Eve] Hmm, And taste in women. I like your flavor.
Eve Kendall:
While I'm calling, you can change your clothes.
Roger Thornhill:
Where do you propose I do that? In Marshall Field's window?
Eve Kendall:
I sort of had the men's room in mind.
Roger Thornhill:
Did you, know? You're the smartest girl I ever spent the night with on a train.
Larry Wade:
[
Referring to the drinks] We've gotten a head start here, Mr. Thornhill.
Roger Thornhill:
That won't last long.
Roger Thornhill:
How do we know it's not a fake? It looks like a fake.
Bidder:
Well, one thing we know. You're no fake. You are a genuine idiot.
Eve Kendall:
Patience is a virtue.
Roger Thornhill:
So is breathing.
Clara Thornhill:
Roger, I think we should go.
Roger Thornhill:
Don't be nervous.
Clara Thornhill:
I'm not nervous, I'll be late for the bridge club.
Roger Thornhill:
Tell me, why are you so good to me?
Eve Kendall:
Shall I climb up and tell you why?
The Professor:
We ahh... we do nothing.
Roger Thornhill:
Seven parking tickets.
Roger Thornhill:
Then, then your name isn't Kaplan?
Man at Prairie Crossing:
Can't say it is, 'cause it ain't.
Roger Thornhill:
Well, didn't you hear what I said? I want to be take to police headquarters. I'm a dangerous assassin, I'm a mad killer on the loose.
Charley - Chicago Policeman:
Where are we goin'?
Sergeant Flamm - Chicago Policeman:
Airport.
Charley - Chicago Policeman:
For what?
Sergeant Flamm - Chicago Policeman:
Orders.
Clara Thornhill:
Roger...Pay the two dollars.
Judge Anson B. Flynn:
How long have you known your client?
Victor Larrabee:
Seven years, Your Honor.
Judge Anson B. Flynn:
Do you know him to be a reasonable man?
Victor Larrabee:
Absolutely.
Clara Thornhill:
Ha!
Roger Thornhill:
Mother.
Judge Anson B. Flynn:
And you believe there is some...
[
Escaping captivity, Roger Thornhill slips in through the window of a darkened hospital room. Immediately the light is snapped on. A woman patient sits up in the bed, reaching for her glasses]
Hospital Patient:
STOP!
Roger Thornhill:
[
stops] Oh. Excuse me.
[
resumes moving towards the door]
Roger Thornhill:
[
She has put on her glasses and gets a good look at him]
Hospital Patient:
[
plaintively] Stop.
[
Thornhill pauses, turns briefly to warn her off with a raised finger, then rushes out the door]
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