Mary Malden:
Tell me, how is it to be a cop?
Jim Wilson:
You get so you don't trust anybody.
Mary Malden:
[
who is blind] You're lucky. You don't have to trust anyone. I do. I have to trust everybody.
Jim Wilson:
[
yelling] So I get thrown off the force! What kind of job is this, anyway? Garbage, that's all we handle: garbage!
Pop Daly:
Don't you know? That's the kind of job it is.
Jim Wilson:
You've been doing it for sixteen years; you ought to know. How do you do it? How do you live with yourself?
Pop Daly:
I don't! I live with other people. When I go home I don't take this stuff with me, I leave it outside. But you! The way you carry it around with you, you must like it!
Jim Wilson:
Why do you make me do it? You know you're gonna talk! I'm gonna make you talk! I always make you punks talk! Why do you do it? Why?
Myrna Bowers:
I like to stink myself up.
Woman in bar:
Hello Junior.
[
with much leering]
Woman in bar:
How's about buying me a drink?
[
With continued leering, and now, tongue lolling]
Woman in bar:
I'm all dry.
Jim Wilson:
[
Sternly] How old are you?
Woman in bar:
[
Continuing to leer] Old enough.
Jim Wilson:
Serve drinks to juveniles, you get into trouble. How many times do I have to tell you that?
Bartender:
Whatta ya want me to do...? Every dame comes in here, look at her teeth...?
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