Alvin: I ain't a-goin' to war. War's killin', and the book's agin' killin! So war is agin' the book!

Sergeant: Where did ya learn to shoot York?
Alvin: Well I ain't never *learned* Sergeant! Folks back home used to say I could shoot a rifle before I was *weaned*, but they was exaggeratin' some.

John Geste: Charming fellow, our sergeant.
Michael 'Beau' Geste: A trifle uncouth, but the best soldier we'll ever see.

[Lt. Martin is bed-ridden with a fever]
Markoff: How do you feel tonight, Lieutenant?
Lt. Martin: I'm dying.
Markoff: I hope not, sir.
Lt. Martin: I'm going to die. I'll be buried under the sand and forgotten. When I was a little boy, I thought soldiers always died in battles. I didn't know there were so many soldiers... and so few battles... and so many fevers.

Roger Thornhill: If you fellows can't lick the VanDamm's of this world without asking girls like her to bed down with them and fly away with them and probably never come back, perhaps you ought to start learning how to lose a few cold wars.
The Professor: I'm afraid we're already doing that.

Benjamin Dingle: Say, what brought you here, Mr. Carter?
Joe Carter: Railroad.
Benjamin Dingle: No, I mean, what's your job?
Joe Carter: I'm a mechanic. I work in a baby carriage factory.
Benjamin Dingle: Where?
Joe Carter: California.
Benjamin Dingle: San Francisco?
Joe Carter: Burbank.
Benjamin Dingle: Baby carriage factory, eh?
Joe Carter: Yep. Tokyo Baby Carriage Corporation - plain and fancy baby carriages for carrying babies to Tokyo.
Benjamin Dingle: Oh. Maybe you think this is none of my business.
Joe Carter: Maybe I do.
Benjamin Dingle: Probably your name isn't even Bill Carter.
Joe Carter: Probably not. It's probably Joe Carter.

[pouring coffee but there is very little left because he accidently spilled most of it out a few minutes earlier]
Benjamin Dingle: There's a war going on Ms. Milligan!

Scarlett: You're a conceited, black heated vulture and I don't know I let you come in and see me.
Rhett Butler: I'll tell you why, Scarlett. The war can't last much longer.
Scarlett: Really, Rhett. Why?
Rhett Butler: There's a little battle going on right now.

[Mr. Thorpe has offered Derry a job as asst. floor manager and part-time soda jerk]
Fred Derry: At what salary?
Mr. Thorpe: Thirty-two fifty per week.
Fred Derry: Thirty-two fifty. I used to make over four hundred dollars a month in the Air Force.
Mr. Thorpe: The war is over, Derry.

Captain Renault: In 1935, you ran guns to Ethiopia. In 1936, you fought in Spain, on the Loyalist side.
Rick: I got well paid for it on both occasions.
Captain Renault: The winning side would have paid you much better.