Sally Albright: I’d like the chef salad please with oil and vinegar on the side, and the apple pie a la mode.
Waitress: Chef and apple a la mode.
Sally Albright: But I’d like the pie heated, and I don’t want the ice cream on top. I want it on the side, and I’d like strawberry instead of vanilla if you have it. If not, then no ice cream, just whipped cream, but only if it’s real. If it’s out of the can, then nothing.
Waitress: Not even the pie?
Sally Albright: No, just the pie, but then not heated.
Harry Burns: Right now everything is great, everyone is happy, everyone is in love and that is wonderful! But you gotta know that sooner or later you’re gonna be screaming at each other about who’s gonna get this dish. This eight dollar dish will cost you a thousand dollars in phone calls to the legal firm of That’s Mine, This Is Yours.
Harry Burns: Please, Jess, Marie. Do me a favor, for your own good, put your name in your books right now before they get mixed up and you won’t know whose is whose. ‘Cause someday, believe it or not, you’ll go 15 rounds over who’s gonna get this coffee table. This stupid, wagon wheel, Roy Rogers, garage sale coffee table!
Jess: I thought you liked it!
Harry Burns: I was being nice!
Sally Albright: Is Harry bringing anybody to the wedding?
Marie: I don’t think so.
Sally Albright: Is he seeing anybody?
Marie: He was seeing this anthropologist, but…
Sally Albright: What’s she look like?
Marie: Thin. Pretty. Big tits. Your basic nightmare.
Jess: “Baby talk”? That’s not a saying!
Harry Burns: Oh, but “baby fish mouth” is sweeping the nation?
Sally Albright: You see? That is just like you, Harry. You say things like that, and you make it impossible for me to hate you!
Harry Burns: Had my dream again where I’m making love, and the Olympic judges are watching. I’d nailed the compulsaries, so this is it, the finals. I got a 9.8 from the Canadians, a perfect 10 from the Americans, and my mother, disguised as an East German judge, gave me a 5.6. Must have been the dismount.
Sally: There’s this guy….
Harry: What does he look like?
Sally: I don’t know, he’s just kind of..faceless.
Harry: Okay, faceless guy.
Sally: He rips off my clothes.
Sally: That’s it.
Harry: That’s it? Faceless guy rips off your clothes and that’s the sex fantasy you’ve been having since you were twelve?
Sally: Well, sometimes I vary it a little.
Harry: Which part?
Sally: What I’m wearing.
Harry Burns: You know, I have a theory that hieroglyphics are just an ancient comic strip about a character named Sphinxy.
Harry: No man can be friends with a woman he finds attractive. He always wants to have sex with her.
Sally: So you are saying that a man can be friends with a woman he finds unattractive?
Harry: No, you pretty much want to nail them too.
Harry Burns: And was it worth it? The sacrifice for a friend you dont even keep in touch with?
Sally Albright: Harry, you might not believe this, but I never considered not sleeping with you a sacrifice.
Harry: Shel? Sheldon? No, no, you didn’t have great sex with…Sheldon.
Sally: I did too.
Harry: No you didn’t. A Sheldon can do your income taxes. If you need a root canal Sheldon’s your man, but humping and pumping is not Sheldon’s strong suit. It’s the name. Do it to me ‘Sheldon’. You’re an animal ‘Sheldon’. Ride me big ‘Sheldon’. Doesn’t work.
Harry Burns: You take someone to the airport, its clearly the beginning of the relationship. Thats why I have never taken anyone to the airport at the beginning of a relationship.
Sally Albright: Why?
Harry Burns: Because eventually things move on and you dont take someone to the airport and I never wanted anyone to say to me, How come you never take me to the airport anymore?
Sally Albright: Its amazing. You look like a normal person but actually you are the angel of death.
Woman: I’ll have what she’s having.
Harry Burns: There are two kinds of women: high maintenance and low maintenance.
Sally Albright: Which one am I?
Harry Burns: You’re the worst kind. You’re high maintenance but you think you’re low maintenance.
Sally Albright: You can’t express every feeling you have every moment that you have them.
Sally Albright: You know, I’m so glad I never got involved with you. I just would have ended up being some woman you had to get up out of bed and leave at 3:00 in the morning and go clean your andirons, and you dont even have a fireplace, not that I would know this.
Harry Burns: Repeat after me. Pepper.
Sally Albright: Pepper.
Harry Burns: Pepper.
Sally Albright: Pepper.
Harry Burns: Waiter, there is too much pepper on my paprikash.
Sally Albright: Waiter, there is too much pepper on my paprikash.
Harry Burns: But I would be happy to partake of your pecan pie.
Harry Burns: When I buy a new book, I read the last page first. That way, in case I die before I finish, I know how it ends. That, my friend, is a dark side.
Harry Burns: I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and the thing is, I love you.
Sally Albright: What?
Harry Burns: I love you.
Sally Albright: How do you expect me to respond to this?
Harry Burns: How about, you love me too.
Sally Albright: How about, I’m leaving.
Marie: All I’m saying is that somewhere out there is the man you are supposed to marry. And if you don’t get him first, somebody else will, and you’ll have to spend the rest of your life knowing that somebody else is married to your husband.
Harry Burns: I love that you get cold when it’s 71 degrees out. I love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich. I love that you get a little crinkle in your nose when you’re looking at me like I’m nuts. I love that after I spend day with you, I can still smell your perfume on my clothes. And I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night. And it’s not because I’m lonely, and it’s not because it’s New Year’s Eve. I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.
Harry Burns: The fact that you’re not answering leads me to believe that (a) You’re not home, (b) You’re home but you don’t want to talk to me, or (c) You’re home, desperately want to talk to me, but you’re trapped under something heavy. If it’s either (a) or (c), please give me a call.
Harry Burns: You were going to be a gymnast.
Sally Albright: A journalist.
Harry Burns: Right, that’s what I said.
Jess: Emily is terrific!
Harry Burns: Yeah. But of course when I asked where she was when Kennedy was shot she said, “Ted Kennedy was shot?”