Lady Fingers: How you holdin' up, Lancey?
Lancey Howard: Lady Fingers, that young man is a stud poker playing son of a...
Lady Fingers: He's gettin' to you, ain't he?
Lancey Howard: No, Lady, he hasn't gotten to me.

Slade: How the hell did you know I didn't have the king or the ace?
Lancey Howard: I recollect a young man putting the same question to Eddie the Dude. "Son," Eddie told him, "all you paid was the looking price. Lessons are extra."

Slade: Six stacks, is that right, Shooter?
Shooter: Six.
Slade: Well, we've been playing 30 hours... uh, that rate, six thousand, that makes roughly, uh, $200 an hour. Thank you for the entertainment, gentlemen. I am particularly grateful to Lancey, here; it's been a rewarding experience to watch a great artist at work. Thank you for the privilege, sir.
Lancey Howard: Well now, you're quite welcome, son. It's a pleasure to meet someone who understands that to the true gambler, money is never an end in itself, it's simply a tool, as a language is to thought. Good evening, uh... Mr. Slade.
Slade: Good evening, Mr. Howard.

Lancey Howard: [thinking on what he said to Lady Fingers] No, Lady; he hasn't gotten to me. Not yet; but he might, he just might.

Lancey Howard: [to Cincinnati Kid] You're good, kid, but as long as I'm around, you're only second best.

Lancey Howard: Women are a universal problem in our business. Of course, uh, it's purely an academic question wuth me now, but, looking back, I think it's best not to look for a fixed thing. Just tie into something nice when you're away from the action and let it wear itself out.

Shooter: Well, Lancey, are we all set for Monday night?
Lancey Howard: Uh-huh.
Shooter: I can get Lady Fingers to come.
Lancey Howard: Lady Fingers? I haven't seen that old bitch - oh, it must be at least ten years;long enough to think of her almost fondly.

[Shooter's wife Melba is altering a jigsaw puzzle piece with a nail file]
Shooter: Melba, why do you do that?
Melba: So it'll fit, stupid.
Shooter: No, I'm not talking about that. What I'm asking is... do you, uh, have to cheat at everything?
Melba: At everything?
Shooter: Yes. At... solitaire. I've yet to see you play one game of solitaire without cheating.
Melba: So what?
Shooter: Look, you're just cheating yourself, don't you understand? You'll be the loser, no one else but yourself!... You've ruined the puzzle, now, that doesn't go in there.
[She forces the altered piece into place]
Melba: Does now.

[Slade blackmails Shooter into cheating on his dealing so the Kid will beat Howard]
Shooter: Hey, why are you doing this? It can't be for money.
Slade: Yes, for my kind of money, gut money. I wanta to see that smug old bastard gutted. Gutted!
Shooter: Like he gutted you.
Slade: Yes, that's right, that's right!