post-hipnótico

Roger: What I mean is, the moment I meet an attractive woman, I have to start pretending I have no desire to make love to her.
Eve: What makes you think you have to conceal it?
Roger: She might find the idea objectionable.
Eve: Then again, she might not.
Roger: Think how lucky I am to have been seated here.
Eve: (ironically) Well, luck had nothing to do with it.
Roger: Fate?
Eve: I tipped the steward $5 dollars to seat you here if you should come in.
Roger: Is that a proposition?
Eve: I never discuss love on an empty stomach.
Roger: You've already eaten.
Eve: But you haven't.

Eve: I'm Eve Kendall. I'm twenty-six and unmarried. Now you know everything.
Roger: Tell me. What do you do besides lure men to their doom on the Twentieth Century Limited?
Eve: I'm an industrial designer.
Roger: Jack Phillips. Western sales manager for Kingby Electronics.
Eve: No, you're not. You're Roger Thornhill of Madison Avenue, and you're wanted for murder on every front page in America, and don't be so modest.
Roger: Whoops!
Eve: Oh, don't worry, I won't say a word.
Roger: How come?
Eve: I told you. It's a nice face.
Roger: Is that the only reason?
Eve: It's going to be a long night.
Roger: True.
Eve: And I don't particularly like the book I've started.
Roger: Ahhh.
Eve: You know what I mean?
Roger: Uh, let me think. (Pause) Yes, I know exactly what you mean...

Etiquetas: cinefilia