“Overheard at O'Banion's Beer Emporium: "Pardon me, darlin', but I'm writin' a telephone book. C'n I have yer number?”

“Every town you go to, they tell you what's special about their town. What they're number one at... This guy comes up and says, 'D'you know that we're the home of the world's largest frying pan?''...Really! That is great 'cause I'm writin' a new book called Things I Don't Care About.”

“Yer in my blood, Saba, he says. Yer in my head. Yer in my breath, yer in my bones...gawd help me, yer everywhere. You have bin since the first moment I set eyes on you.”

“Now me,” said Mr. Vandemar.“What number am I thinking of?” “I beg your pardon?” “What number am I thinking of?” repeated Mr. Vandemar. “It’s between one and a lot,” he added, helpfully.”

“Yes, Baby...I've been drinkin'...I shouldn't come by I know...but I found myself in trouble, darlin'...and I have no place else to go. Honey I'm guilty..yes I'm guilty...and I'll be guilty for the rest of my life. How come I never do, what I'm supposed to do. Nothin' I try to do ever turns out right. You know how it is with me baby, I just can't stand myself...it takes a whole lotta medicine, darlin'...for me to pretend that I'm somebody else.”

“I do hope you'll forgive me if I overwhelm you with talk. When I meet somebody who's heard that books exist, I'm afraid I go off like a bottle of warm beer.”