General Sternwood: Do you like orchids?
Philip Marlowe: Not particularly.
General Sternwood: Ugh. Nasty things. Their flesh is too much like the flesh of men, and their perfume has the rotten sweetness of corruption.

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Philip Marlowe: What’s wrong with you?
Vivian: Nothing you can’t fix.

Norris: How do you like your brandy, sir?
Philip Marlowe: In a glass.

Philip Marlowe: I don’t mind if you don’t like my manners. I don’t like them myself. They’re pretty bad. I grieve over them on long winter evenings.

Philip Marlowe: My, my, my. Such a lot of guns around town and so few brains!

Vivian: Why did you have to go on?
Marlowe: Too many people told me to stop.