“Roarke: You'd enjoy flying more if you'd learn the controls.Eve: I'd rather pretend I'm on the ground.Roarke: And how many vehicles have you wrecked, had blown up, or destroyed in the last, oh, two years?Eve: Think about that, then imagine it happening when I'm at the wheel at thirty thousand feet.Roarke: Good point. I'll do the flying.”

“Eve: “If you ended up naked and dead with another woman, I'd do the Rumba on your corpse.”Roarke: “You can't do the Rumba.”Eve: “I'd take lessons first.”Roarke: “You might very well. Not that you'll ever get the chance, but you'd also grieve.” Eve: “Wouldn't give you the satisfaction. You cheating f-wit putz. "Roarke: “You'd weep in the dark and call my name.”Eve: “Call your name alright. How are things in hell? You dickless bastard. And I'd laugh and laugh, that's how I''d call your name.”Roarke: “Christ Jesus Eve, I love you.”--Eve, Roarke”

“If you'd just try, I'm sure you'd be able to fly.”

“Oh, I'm good. Seriously, after all these years, you'd think I would stop amazing myself. But here I am, still doing it.”

“Eve: What is it about asking you Catholic questions that gets you all jumpy?Roarke: You'd be jumpy, too, if I asked you things that make you feel the hot breath of hell at your back.Eve: You're not going to hell.Roarke: Oh, and have you got some inside intel on that?Eve: You married a cop...you married me. I'm your goddamn salvation.”

“I'm not a drinker, my body won't tolerate...eh...spirits, really. I had two martinis New Years Eve and I tried to hi-jack an elevator and fly it to Cuba.”