James Bond: What do you know about gold, Moneypenny?
Miss Moneypenny: Oh, the only gold I know about is the kind you wear... you know, on the third finger of your left hand?
James Bond: Well, one of these days we really must look into that.
Miss Moneypenny: How about tonight? You'll come over for dinner...
[playfully tosses Bond's hat onto the hat rack]
Miss Moneypenny: and I'll cook you a wonderful angel cake.
James Bond: Well, nothing would give me greater pleasure, but I'm afraid I have a... business appointment.
Miss Moneypenny: [laughing] That's the flimsiest excuse you've ever given me. Oh, well, some girls have all the luck. Who is she, James?
M: [over intercom] "She" is me, Miss Moneypenny. And kindly omit the customary byplay with 007. He's dining with me and I don't want him to be late.
Miss Moneypenny: [to Bond] Then there's hope for me yet.
James Bond: [gives Moneypenny a playful peck on the cheek] Moneypenny, won't you ever believe me?

James Bond: What would it take for you to see things my way?
Pussy Galore: A lot more than you've got.
James Bond: How do you know?
Pussy Galore: I don't want to know.

James Bond: You'll kill 60,000 people uselessly.
Auric Goldfinger: Hah. American motorists kill that many every two years.
James Bond: Yes, well, I've worked out a few statistics of my own. 15 billion dollars in gold bullion weighs 10,500 tons. Sixty men would take twelve days to load it onto 200 trucks. Now, at the most, you're going to have two hours before the Army, Navy, Air Force, and Marines move in and make you put it back.
Auric Goldfinger: Who mentioned anything about removing it?
[Bond is stunned into silence]
Auric Goldfinger: The julep tart enough for you?
James Bond: You plan to break into the world's largest bank, but not to steal anything. Why?
Auric Goldfinger: Go on, Mr. Bond.
James Bond: [thinking] Mr. Ling, the Red Chinese at the factory, he's a specialist in nuclear fission... but of course! His government's given you a bomb.
Auric Goldfinger: I prefer to call it an "atomic device." It's small, but particularly dirty.
James Bond: Cobalt and iodine?
Auric Goldfinger: Precisely.
James Bond: Well, if you explode it in Fort Knox, the... the entire gold supply of the United States would be radioactive for... fifty-seven years.
Auric Goldfinger: Fifty-eight, to be exact.
James Bond: I apologize, Goldfinger. It's an inspired deal! They get what they want, economic chaos in the West. And the value of your gold increases many times.
Auric Goldfinger: I conservatively estimate, ten times.
James Bond: Brilliant.

James Bond: You're a woman of many parts, Pussy!

James Bond: You're a woman of many parts, Pussy.

M: Gold? All over?
James Bond: She died of skin suffocation. It's been known to happen to cabaret dancers. It's all right as long as you leave a small bare patch at the base of the spine to allow the skin to breathe.
M: Someone obviously didn't.
James Bond: And I know who.
M: This isn't a personal vendetta, 007. It's an assignment, like any other. And if you can't treat it as such, coldly and objectively, 008 can replace you.
M: You've hardly distinguished yourself, have you? You were supposed to observe Mr. Goldfinger, not borrow his girlfriend. Instead of that, Goldfinger goes off to Europe, and it's only by the grace of God, your friend Leiter, and my intervention with the British Embassy in Washington, that you're not in the custody of the Miami Beach Police!
James Bond: [frustrated] Sir... I am aware of my shortcomings... and I am prepared to continue this assignment in the spirit you suggest... if I knew what it was about!
[catches himself, then more calmly]
James Bond: ... sir.
M: What do you know about gold? Not paint, bullion.
James Bond: I know it when I see it.
M: Meet me tonight at seven. Black tie.

Radio Newsman: [broadcasting on radio, over Bond and Jill, who are kissing passionately in bed] Station WEBS brings you the latest in world news. Washington... at the White House today, the president said that he was entirely satisfied...
[Bond switches off the radio]
James Bond: [to Jill] That makes two of us.

Pussy Galore: [pointing a gun at Bond, who has just emerged from the airplane lavatory] We'll be landing in twenty minutes. Do you want to play it easy, or the hard way? And this isn't a tranquilizer gun.
James Bond: Now, Pussy, you know a lot more about planes than guns. That's a Smith and Wesson 45, and if you fire at me at this close range, the bullet will pass through me and the fuselage like a blowtorch through butter. The cabin will depressurize, and we'll both be sucked into outer space together. If that's how you want to enter the United States, you're welcome. As for me, I prefer the easy way.
Pussy Galore: That's very sensible.
James Bond: Besides, there's always so much going on around Mr. Goldfinger. It would be a shame not to accept his hospitality.
Pussy Galore: I'm sure he'll be happy to see you, too.
[touches the gun barrel to his chin]
Pussy Galore: You like close shaves, don't you?

Pussy Galore: I'm Mr. Goldfinger's personal pilot.
James Bond: Oh? Just how personal is that?
Pussy Galore: I'm a damn good pilot. Period.

Pussy Galore: My name is Pussy Galore.
James Bond: I must be dreaming.