Marcel: I feel it in my buns.
Milo Perrier: You got buns and did not tell me!
Marcel: No, the buns in my body.

Milo Perrier: Be quiet everyone! I smell something!

Sam Diamond: Locked, from the inside. That can only mean one thing. And I don't know what it is.

Dora Charleston: Mr. Diamond, there's a bullet hole in your jacket.
Sam Diamond: You should see the other guy.

Milo Perrier: I'm not a Frenchie, I'm a BELGIE!

Sidney Wang: Yes, is confusing.
Lionel Twain: IT! IT is confusing! Say your *** pronouns!

Jamesir Bensonmum: She murdered herself in her sleep, sir.
Dick Charleston: You mean suicide?
Jamesir Bensonmum: Oh no, it was murder, all right. Mrs. Twain HATED herself.

Lionel Twain: That drives me crazy!
Sam Diamond: Sounds like a short ride to me.

Dora Charleston: Is he dead?
Sam Diamond: With a thing like that in his back, in the long run, he's better off.

Lionel Twain: You've tricked and fooled your readers for years. You've tortured us all with surprise endings that made no sense. You've introduced characters in the last five pages that were never in the book before. You've withheld clues and information that made it impossible for us to guess who did it. But now, the tables are turned. Millions of angry mystery readers are now getting their revenge. When the world learns I've outsmarted you, they'll be selling your $1.95 books for twelve cents.

Dora Charleston: What a godforsaken spot to get lost!
Dick Charleston: I'm sure I saw a much better spot a few miles back.

Sam Diamond: No pinkies? You mean Twain has only got eight fingers?
Tess Skeffington: No, no, he's got ten. He just doesn't have any pinkies.

Dick Charleston: Up there, Dora, look - a blind butler.
Dora Charleston: Don't let him park the car, Dickie.

Sam Diamond: The last time that I trusted a dame was in Paris in 1940. She said she was going out to get a bottle of wine. Two hours later, the Germans marched into France.

Lionel Twain: I'm the greatest, I'm number one!
Sam Diamond: To me, you look like number two, know what I mean?
Dora Charleston: What DOES he mean, Miss Skeffington?
Tess Skeffington: I'll tell you later. It's disgusting.

Sidney Wang: Conversation like television set on honeymoon: unnecessary.