Jack Wyatt: How would you like to be on a television show? Ms. . .
Isabel Bigelow: Bigelow.
Jack Wyatt: Bigelow?
Isabel Bigelow: Isabel Bigelow.
Jack Wyatt: What do you think? Wanna be a famous actress?
Isabel Bigelow: Me?
Jack Wyatt: Yeah.
Isabel Bigelow: An actress?
Jack Wyatt: Yeah.
Isabel Bigelow: I can’t act.
Jack Wyatt: Anyone can act. If I can act, you can act.
Book Soup Cafe Waitress: Amen.
Jack Wyatt: I think those people over there just finished their plate of *hummus*. You might wanna help them by clearing it. Thank you.
Buddy: Who the heck are you?
Gimbel’s Santa: What are you talkin’ about? I’m Santa Claus.
Buddy: No, you’re not.
Gimbel’s Santa: Uh, why of course I am! Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho.
Buddy: Well, if you’re Santa, what song did I sing for you on your birthday this year?
Gimbel’s Santa: Um, Happy Birthday of course. Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho. How old are you son?
Kid with Santa: Four.
Gimbel’s Santa: You’re a big boy. What’s your name?
Kid with Santa: Paul.
Gimbel’s Santa: Now what can I get you for Christmas?
Buddy: Don’t tell him what you want, he’s a liar.
Gimbel’s Santa: Let the kid talk.
Buddy: You disgust me! How can you live with yourself?
Gimbel’s Santa: Just cool it, Zippy.
Buddy: You sit on a throne of lies.
Gimbel’s Santa: Look, I’m not kiddin’.
Buddy: You’re a fake.
Gimbel’s Santa: I’m a fake?
Gimbel’s Santa: How’d you like to be dead, huh? Ho, ho, just kidding.
Buddy: You stink.
Gimbel’s Santa: I think you’re gonna have a good Christmas, all right.
Buddy: You smell like beef and cheese, you don’t smell like Santa. [rips off beard] He’s a fake!!!
Harold Crick: [runs to Ana the baker with a box of 10 paper bags in it] I’m glad I caught you. I wanted to give you these.
Ana Pascal: Wait, you can give presents, but not receive them? That sounds awfully inconsistent, Mr. Crick.
Harold Crick: Yes, but…
Ana Pascal: Wait, I know, I’ll purchase them! Yeah, I’ll purchase them.
[reaches into her bag to grab her wallet]
Harold Crick: No, no, no, no.
Ana Pascal: [with wallet in hand, stops to actually look at the box] What are they?
Harold Crick: [quietly] Flours.
Ana Pascal: What?
Harold Crick: I brought you flours.
Ana Pascal: [see the sweetness of the gesture, then realizing he’s carried 10 bags of flours] Wait, you carried them all the way here?
Harold Crick: Miss Pascal, I’ve been odd. I know I’ve been odd, and I know that there are many forces at work telling me to bring these down here to you, but I brought these for you because… I want you.
Ana Pascal: [a bit taken aback, and ready to be really offended] Excuse me?
Harold Crick: I want you.
Ana Pascal: You want me?
Harold Crick: In no uncertain terms.
Ana Pascal: [realizing that he’s really not being a creep and just a guy who’s not used to saying what he feels] But isn’t there some… I don’t rule about fraternization…
Harold Crick: Auditor / Auditee protocols, yes, but I don’t care.
Ana Pascal: Why not?
Harold Crick: Because I want you.
Ana Pascal: [contemplates him for a second, and looks back at the box] Can you carry those a little bit further?
Harold Crick: Okay.