Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Who is it?
- Don't bother. Mrs. Brown will be along soon. - No trouble at all.
- You're more than modest. - It's not modesty. I don't try to kid myself.
I detest cheap sentiment.
- More than anything else in the world. - Then ask Miss Harrington how to get one.
I don't suppose the heater runs if the motor doesn't.
Please don't play governess, Karen.
No, don't go.
...she and Lloyd had thawed out to the extent of being civil to each other.
You can always put that award where your heart ought to be.
MAX YOU SLY PUSS
...a shade more on the... shall we say, happier side?
Belong? To you?
I'll tour a year with this one, anything. Only you do understand, don't you?
I love you.
Next to that sable, my new mink seems like an old bed jacket.
"About the understandable reluctance of our entrenched first ladies of the stage...
- Lloyd, what's happened? - Up to here, that's where I've got it.
Where would you like to go? We must make this a special night.
- She works hard. - Night and day.
But you did. More to yourself perhaps, as it turned out, than to anyone else.
Diamond collar, gold sleeves. You know - picture people.
I haven't your unyielding good taste.
I'm about to go into the shower. I won't be able to hear you.
Eddie was in the air force.
It isn't the part. It's a great part and a fine play. But not for me anymore.
- Birdie. - Hm?
Lloyd says it's a publicity release.
MAX YOU SLY PUSS
- It's nothing definite. Just lunch. - They'll be wasting their time.
...and it's gone.
Shall we?
Here I am.
I think you do know.
They gave me some anesthetic. I don't remember the name.
- You need new girdles. - Buy some.
- Oh, waiter. - That isn't a waiter, my dear. That's a butler.
I'm going to bed.
- Good evening, Gus. - Good evening, Mrs. Richards.
All of us invited that afternoon...
Good morning. Well, what do you think of my elegant new suit?
- She did? - She hasn't missed a week since I left.
It's on my list of things I'll never understand, like collecting shrunken Indian heads.
Was she that bad?
- I've brought her back to see you. - You've what?
Cut! Print it! What happens in the next reel? Do I get dragged off to the snake pits?
I'm not interested whether thousands of people think I'm six or 600!
And what's left will be... what?
...if that's what you wanna be. - Is that what you want me to be?
To those who do not read, attend the theater, listen to unsponsored radio programmes...
We'd better let Mrs. Brown pick up the wardrobe.
Of course.
...and the things you don't.
Don't cry. Just score it as an incomplete forward pass.
She can play Peck's Bad Boy all she wants and who's to stop her?
I'd love to. Or should I pretend I'm busy?
- You'd have been proud of her. - I'm sure.
...who took a chance on an unknown, untried amateur.
- I don't think it's such a good idea. - Promise?
...or know anything of the world in which you live...
- I made a promise. - To Miss Caswell? What?
I don't think I could be.
- Until now, we've only met in passing. - That's how you met me. In passing.
It seems I can't think of a thing you haven't thought of.
- Do you know what I'm going to be? - A cowboy?
Margo. Margo, I want you to know how sorry I am about this.
Sarah Bernhardt and Poodles Hanneford. Lunt and Fontanne, Betty Grable.
I detest cheap sentiment.
- One? - No, two, please.
I don't wanna be childish. I'd settle for a few years.
- Can I fix you a drink? - With the reluctant compliments of Max?
I'm sure you mean something, but I don't know what.
We now got everything a dressing room needs except a basketball hoop!
If Equity or my lawyer can't or won't do anything about it...
Eve would ask Abbott to give her Costello.
- Make-up's a little heavy. - And for you.
Right. 11.45ish.
You better sit down. You look a bit wobbly.
...distinguished guests, ladies and gentlemen.
- Good night. - Good night, Gus.
...there is nothing I wanna do so much as kick her right square in the pants.
...has sold its last pill.
Now that's cooperation. I appreciate it.
A graduate of the Copacabana School of Dramatic Art.
- Then I guess I fell asleep. - You were just looking around?
Three months ago I was 40 years old.
You won't bore him, honey. You won't even get a chance to talk.
There is something.
Dear sentimental, generous, courageous Max Fabian...
- You've got to admit, it'd be a novelty. - Now you're quoting Addison... or Eve.
Put it on one of the trunks, will you? I wanna pack it.
But, somehow, acting and make-believe began to fill up my life more and more.
Acted out all sorts of things. What they were isn't important.
- It's a good thought. - It won't play.
...or pull the ivy from the walls of Yale.
...interview people you have to see, get rid of those you don't have to.
It's about time the piano realized it has not written the concerto!
- Oh, brother, what? - When she gets like this...
Dear Margo, you were an unforgettable Peter Pan. You must play it again soon.
...what she eats and what she wears and whom she knows...
...whose help, guidance, and advice...
You have a point. An idiotic one, but a point.
Wondering where she was.
You listen as if someone else had written your play. Whom do you have in mind?
It was the last week. I went one night.
Lloyd may leave Karen, but he will not leave Karen for you.
- May I have your coat? - I'll take it up.
It got less and less dull, until your boss's wife had your boss followed by detectives.
Call me Birdie.
I figured I'd stay in San Francisco.
...and by the time we drove Margo to the station late Monday afternoon...
And the man who invented the steam-engine, he was watching a teakettle.
- An answer. - No.
Are you threatening me with legal action, Mr. Fabian?