[Benjy is trying to fly an airplane]
Benjy Benjamin: Dingy, don't let this worry you- *We're gonna get killed*!
Benjy Benjamin: Wall?
Ding Bell: No.
Benjy Benjamin: Walnut tree?
Ding Bell: No, no.
Benjy Benjamin: Walnuts?
Ding Bell: No.
Benjy Benjamin: In bags?
Ding Bell: NO!
Benjy Benjamin: If I have to climb much more of *this* I'll be lying down there *with* him!
Sylvester Marcus: That's my mommy. She's gone crazy or something. MAYBE RAPE! OH!
Lennie Pike: Now fellas, you keep this up and I'm gonna get sore. I mean it.
Col. Wilberforce: [completely tangled up in the radio's microphone cord] What the HELL is with this wire?
J. Algernon Hawthorne: You know I'm not entirely uncertain you haven't damaged this machine.
Mrs. Marcus: Nobody's gonna get *me* up in the air!
Melville Crump: Why can't you have a little confidence in me?
Mrs. Marcus: We're the ones with the Imperial, and we're running last?
Lennie Pike: *Everybody* has to pay taxes!- Even businessmen, that rob and steal and cheat from people everyday, even *they* have to pay *taxes*!
J. Russell Finch: Hey, did you see th-the way he went SAILING right out there?
Sylvester Marcus: I'm coming. That's what I'm here for. That's why you had me, Mama, to save you.
Mrs. Marcus: [holding cactus plant] Well, uh, where shall I put this?
J. Russell Finch: [double take] Oh, boy.
Lennie Pike: [furious] So! So someone will "stumble over the little girl's bicycle in the dark", huh? Well when I'm finished with *you*, they'll be stumbling over *YOU* in the *dark*!
Man in car in desert: Trouble? Having any trouble?
Mrs. Marcus: Yes, and we don't need any help from you!
Man in car in desert: Well!
Police sergeant: He just sits in there, rigid-like.
Switchboard operator Gertie: If he catches you at that keyhole, *you'll* be rigid-like.
Policeman: You fellows all right?
Ray: Now they show up. Where were you when we needed you?
Irwin: Writing parking tickets, I suppose.
Policeman: They're still alive!
Capt. T.G. Culpeper: Now, where have I always told ya that the Smiler hid the dough? Where? Right there!
Mrs. Marcus: [holding a planter containing several cactus] Well, where should I put this?
J. Russell Finch: [scoffing] Oh, boy.
Mrs. Marcus: [Referring to her son, Sylvester] Exactly like your father! A big stupid muscle-headed moron!