Dorothy: Wait, wait! Why would she bring a steak knife to what she thought was a romantic liaison?
Alvarez: It could've been for anything. I'm not familiar with her sexual proclivities.
Sophia: What, are you a rookie?

Sophia: So this was all a mockery, a sham. No crimes were committed at all. What a load of fun. [struggling to lift her bag] Pussycat, help me carry my purse to the car.

Marlowe: Please, nobody touch anything. My name is Spade Marlowe. I'm a private detective retained by the late philanthropist, Giles Forsythe, because when an 88-year-old man marries a 22-year-old girl, he likes to know what she's up to.
Sophia: I'm sorry to interrupt, but does anybody but me think the hat's a little precious?

Dorothy: On the other hand, Philip would never pick a Mayan sacrificial knife as a murder weapon. Too obvious.
But it would be no problem for his sister to sneak the weapon out of his collection.
Woman: This woman's pathetic!
Sophia: Oh, big news. Tear out the front page.
Dorothy: Notice that the dagger was found to the left of the victim. A throat- [holding a butter knife to Sophia's throat] A throat is almost always cut from behind.
Sophia: Not part of the show, people. Not part of the show.

Dorothy: The hotel security chief cordoned off the room, so the only people who saw the room after the murder, other than you and your staff, were the waiter, the security chief, and the four of us.
Alvarez: So?
Dorothy: So when Miss MacGlinn was reconstructing the murder scene, she described Blanche's dress being slung over the bed.
Alvarez: It was. I saw it.
Dorothy: But Miss MacGlinn could only have seen it if she'd been there prior to the murder. [Blanche gasps] I think I see now how it happened. Last evening, at dinner, when Miss MacGlinn saw Blanche give Kendall Nesbitt her key, she was furious. She dropped a steak knife into her purse.
Sophia: Big deal, I took a whole place setting.
Dorothy: Not now, Ma! And when she felt that she wouldn't be missed, she slipped out of the dining room and headed upstairs. Kendall had let himself into Blanche's room while she was in the shower and was making himself comfortable when there was a knock at the door. Thinking it was the champagne, he opened the door.
Posey was there. She accused him of two-timing. He denied it. Posey pulled out a steak knife, plunged it into his chest and left the room before Blanche could discover her. Jealous rage was the motive, all right, but Blanche wasn't the murderer. There's your murderer, Posey MacGlinn.

Marlowe: Ladies and gentlemen, you now have enough clues to solve these murders. Who did it, how and why?
Rose: The butler did it!
Maitre d': I'm a maitre d'.
Rose: Thank you. The maitre d' did it!

Blanche: Does this mean you'll go?
Dorothy: Of course we'll go.
Rose: Sure, anything for a friend.
Sophia: What the heck. I'll go, too.
Dorothy: Yeah, like you had a choice.

Rose: When do you think the mysteries are gonna start?
Sophia: You want a mystery? You should have tried the pink dressing at the salad bar. [walking away] Oh, jeez, the mystery continues.

Dorothy: Now, girls, remember, look everyone over very carefully. Try to figure out who are the real guests and who are actors pretending to be guests. It'll help when it comes to solving the mysteries.
Rose: Okay, Dorothy. If that's your real name.

Kendall: Blanche, I must commend you again. I have a feeling we're in for a weekend none of us is going to forget.
Blanche: Oh, I do declare, your sweet words could charm the mornin' dew right off of the honeysuckle.
Dorothy: That was good, Blanche. Now, do Br'er Rabbit.