Cecilia: I just met a wonderful new man! He’s fictional, but you can’t have everything.
Tom Baxter: You make love without fading out?
Tom Baxter: Dad was a card. I never met him. He died before the movie began.
Countess: Go with the real guy, honey, we’re limited.
Rita: Go with Tom! He’s got no flaws!
Delilah: Go with somebody, child, ’cause I’s gettin’ bored.
Tom Baxter: Cecilia, it’s clear how miserable you are with your husband. And if he hits you again, you tell me. I’d be forced to knock his teeth out.
Cecilia: I don’t think that’d be such a good idea. He’s big.
Tom Baxter: I’m sorry. It’s written into my character to do it, so I do it.
Tom Baxter: I don’t get hurt or bleed, hair doesn’t muss; it’s one of the advantages of being imaginary.
Tom Baxter: I was thinking about some very deep things. About God and his relation with Irving Saks and R.H. Levine. And I was thinking about life in general. The origin of everything we see about us. The finality of death; how almost magical it seems in the real world, as opposed to the world of celluloid and flickering shadows.
Hooker: (To another hooker) Where did you find this clown?
Tom Baxter: I love you. I’m honest, dependable, courageous, romantic, and a great kisser.
Gil Shepherd: And I’m real.
Movie Patron: You can’t talk to my wife that way – who do you think you are?
The Countess: I’m a genuine countess with a lot of dough, and if that’s your wife she’s a tub of guts.
Gil’s Agent: Tom Baxter’s come down off the screen and he’s running around New Jersey! …Nobody knows how it happened, but he’s done it.
Gil Shepherd: How can he do that? It’s not physically possible!
Gil’s Agent: In New Jersey anything can happen.
Jason: What are you people doing here? We can’t continue the story ’til Tom gets back.
Harold: Oh, we don’t mind observing you all.
Harold’s Wife: Yes. My husband is a student of the human personality.
Rita: Oh yeah, well we’re not human.
Harold’s Wife: It doesn’t matter to Harold. He has trouble with humans.
Moviegoer: I want what happened in the movie last week to happen this week; otherwise, what’s life all about anyway?