“Sméagol won't grub for roots and carrotses and - taters. What's taters, precious, eh, what's taters?''Po-ta-toes,' said Sam. 'The Gaffer's delight, and rare good ballast for an empty belly. But you won't find any, so you needn't look. But be good Sméagol and fetch me some herbs, and I'll think better of you. What's more, if you turn over a new leaf, and keep it turned, I'll cook you some taters one of these days. I will: fried fish and chips served by S. Gamgee. You couldn't say no to that.' 'Yes, yes we could. Spoiling nice fish, scorching it. Give me fish now, and keep nassty chips!''Oh, you're hopeless,' said Sam. 'Go to sleep!”
“They call me Tater Salad”
“Swimming won't make you a fish, but if you're a fish you will swim.”
“Besides, what gives me the entitlement," he says in a low authoritative voice," is when you said yes to going to New York with me, you, in effect said yes to me. I am a part of you now. As such, I am entitled to you.”
“What kind of man eats your fish when you won't sleep with him?”
“I hope they don't hang you, precious, by that sweet neck. Yes, angel, I'm gonna send you over. The chances are you'll get off with life. That means if you're a good girl, you'll be out in 20 years. I'll be waiting for you. If they hang you, I'll always remember you. (Sam Spade to Brigid O'Shaughnessy)”