Eve Harrington: If nothing else, there’s applause…like waves of love pouring over the footlights.
Margo Channing: Bill’s thirty-two. He looks thirty-two. He looked it five years ago, he’ll look it twenty years from now. I hate men.
Margo Channing: Funny business, a woman’s career, the things you drop on the way up the ladder so you can move faster. You forget you’ll need them again when you get back to being a woman. It’s one career all females have in common-being a woman. Sooner or later we’ve got to work at it no matter how many other careers we’ve had or wanted. And in the last analysis nothing is any good unless you can look up just before dinner or turn around in bed and there he is. Without that you’re not a woman. You’re something with a French provincial office or a book full of clippings but you’re not a woman. Slow, curtain, the end.
Addison DeWitt: What do you take me for?
Eve: I don’t know that I’d take you for anything.
Addison DeWitt: I’m Addison DeWitt. I’m nobody’s fool, least of all yours.
Addison DeWitt: You’re maudlin and full of self-pity. You’re magnificent!
Margo Channing: I’ll admit I may have seen better days…but I’m still not to be had for the price of a cocktail, like a salted peanut.
Margo: Fasten your seatbelts. It’s gonna be a bumpy night.