Macaulay Connor: Champagne's funny stuff. I'm used to whiskey. Whiskey is a slap on the back, and champagne's heavy mist before my eyes.
Margaret Lord: We both might face the facts that neither of us has proved to be a very great success as a wife.
Tracy Lord: We just picked the wrong first husband.
Tracy Lord: I can't make you out at all now.
Macaulay Connor: I thought I was easy.
Tracy Lord: So did I. But you're not. You talk so big and tough and then you write like this. Which is which?
Macaulay Connor: Both. I guess.
Tracy Lord: No. No, I believe you put the toughness down to save your skin.
Macaulay Connor: You think so?
Tracy Lord: Yes. I know a little about that.
Macaulay Connor: You do?
Tracy Lord: Quite a lot.
Dinah Lord: Oh, it won't rain. Tracy won't stand for it.
George Kittredge: You're like some marvelous, distant, well, queen, I guess. You're so cool and fine and always so much your own. There's a kind of beautiful purity about you, Tracy, like, like a statue.
Tracy Lord: George.
George Kittredge: Oh, it's grand, Tracy. It's what everybody feels about you. It's what I first worshipped you for from afar.
Tracy Lord: I don't want to be worshipped. I want to be loved.
Tracy Lord: Oh, we're going to talk about me again, are we? Goody.
Macaulay Connor: The prettiest sight in this fine pretty world is the privileged class enjoying its privileges.
Macaulay Connor: I would sell my grandmother for a drink - and you know how I love my grandmother.
Uncle Willie: Must we ride in this thing? Wouldn't we be more comfortable on pogo sticks?
C. K. Dexter Haven: You'll never be a first class human being or a first class woman until you've learned to have some regard for human frailty.
Margaret Lord: The course of true love.
Macaulay Connor: ...gathers no moss.
George Kittredge: I'm going to build you an ivory tower with my own two hands.
Tracy Lord: Like fun you are.
Macaulay Connor: Tell four footmen to call me in time for lunch will you?
Macaulay Connor: This is the Bridal Suite. Would you send up a couple of caviar sandwiches and a bottle of beer?
Margaret Lord: What? Who is this?
Macaulay Connor: This is the Voice of Doom calling. Your days are numbered, to the seventh son of the seventh son.
Margaret Lord: Hello? Hello?
Tracy Lord: What's the matter?
Margaret Lord: One of the servants has been at the sherry again.
Macaulay Connor: I'm testing the air. I like it but it doesn't like me.