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.
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Vivian: How did you find her?
Marlowe: I didn’t find her.
Vivian: Well then how did you—
Marlowe: I haven’t been here, you haven’t seen me, and she hasn’t been out of the house all evening.
Vivian: You go too far, Marlowe.
Marlowe: Those are harsh words to throw at a man, especially when he’s walking out of your bedroom.
Marlowe: You know what he’ll do when he comes back? Beat my teeth out, then kick me in the stomach for mumbling.
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.