IMDB does a daily quote, and usually it’s not very good. Or at least, I don’t like them. But today is a winner, from what might be my favorite musical, The Music Man:
- It’s a well-known principle that if you keep the flint in one drawer and the steel in the other, you’ll never strike much of a fire.
I guess the Internet changes that, though, doesn’t it? The flint and steel are always in the same virtual drawer.
* At the average hourly wage of $27.54, that tax-preparation time amounts to $193 billion, or 14 percent of aggregate income tax receipts.
George Kaufman and Moss Hart:
Henderson: According to our records, Mr. Vanderhof, you have never paid an income tax.
Grandpa: That’s right.
Henderson: Why not?
Grandpa: I don’t believe in it.
Grandpa: Look, Mr. Henderson, let me ask you something.
Grandpa: Suppose I pay you this money–mind you, I don’t say I’m going to pay it–but just for the sake of argument–what’s the Government going to do with it?
Henderson: How do you mean?
Grandpa: Well, what do I get for my money? If I go into Macy’s and buy something, there it is–I see it. What’s the Government going to give me?
Henderson: Why, the Government gives you everything. It protects you.
Grandpa: What from?
Henderson: Well–invasion. Foreigners that might come over here and take everything you’ve got.
Grandpa: Oh, I don’t think they’re going to do that.
Henderson: If you didn’t pay an income tax, they would. How do you think the Government keeps up the Army and Navy? All those battleships…
Grandpa: Last time we used battleships was in the Spanish-American War, and what did we get out of it? Cuba–and we gave that back! I wouldn’t mind paying if it were something sensible.
Henderson: Sensible? Well, what about Congress, and the Supreme Court, and the President? We’ve got to pay them, don’t we?
Grandpa: Not with my money–no sir.
Henderson: Now wait a minute! I’m not here to argue with you. All I know is that you haven’t paid an income tax and you’ve got to pay it!
Grandpa: They’ve got to show me.
Henderson: We don’t have to show you! I just told you! All those buildings down in Washington and Interstate Commerce and the Constitution!
Grandpa: The Constitution was paid for long ago. And Interstate Commerce–what is Interstate Commerce anyhow?
Henderson: There are forty-eight states–see? And if there weren’t Interstate Commerce, nothing could go from one state to another. See?
Grandpa: Why not? They got fences?
Henderson: No, they haven’t got fences. They’ve got laws! My God, I never came across anything like this before!
Grandpa: Well, I might pay about seventy-five dollars, but that’s all it’s worth.
VIOLET: Good afternoon, Mr. Bailey.
GEORGE: Hello, Violet. Hey, you look good. That’s some dress you got on there.
VIOLET: Oh, this old thing? Why, I only wear it when I don’t care how I look.
ERNIE: How would you like …
GEORGE (as he enters cab): Yes …
ERNIE: Want to come along, Bert? We’ll show you the town!
Bert looks at his watch, then takes another look at Violet’s retreating figure.
BERT: No, thanks. Think I’ll go home and see what the wife’s doing.
ERNIE: Family man.
…we don’t know who’s going to win the war.“
– Fred Quimby to Fred "Tex” Avery, on one of his more pointed anti-Hitler cartoons.
He was the lowest of low-bred dogs. It would have taken several commodious closets to accommodate his family skeletons. At first there had been some loose talk about his Airedale ancestry. There was nothing to it. At some time during the love life of his indefatigable mother things must have become terribly involved. The result was Dopey, a creature who could call almost any dog brother with a fair chance of being right nine times out of ten. He was a melting-pot of a dog, carrying in his veins so many different strains of canine blood that he was never able to decide what breed of dog he should try hardest to be, or to develop any consistent course of canine conduct. He had no philosophy, no traditions, no moral standards. Dopey was just dog. His mother might have seen an Airedale once or even made a tentative date with an Airedale, but after one good look at her son it was obvious that the date had never amounted to anything definite.
–Thorne Smith, Turnabout (Chapter 2)