Mr. Andrews:We madmen are the aristocrats of mental illness.
Lakey:There was another game that Kay insisted on playing: the Truth Game. Everyone was to make a list of their friends, in order of preference, and then compare the lists. What Kay never stopped to think about was that somebody always had to be at the bottom of every list. And when that somebody cried, Kay was honestly surprised.
Libby:I'm appalled by all this vulgar breeding.
Harald Peterson:That was something, that funeral.
Lakey:Well, w2hat would you have done? You can't throw a body down an incinerator, it's not a manuscript.
Lakey:Yes, I heard about that.
Helena:Alright, girls. Let's get our minds off our plumbing.
Priss:It may surprise you Poke, but not everyone's lolling at Newport this summer.
Pokey:Lolling! Flying lessons all summer!
Dottie:Where is the breakfast?
Libby:Brevoort. charming old Hotel. So much more appropriate, don't you think, Lakey?
Libby:Kay and Harald giving the breakfast.
Lakey:City Hall would have been more appropriate too I think. Instead of trying to carry it off in Peter Styvesant's church. Harald not to the manor born, exactly.
Libby:How hard you can be, Lakey.
Dottie:Yet Kay adores you. And you used to like her best in your heart of hearts.
Lakey:You might spare me a cliche' like "heart of hearts," Dottie.