The Oscar

Hymie Kelly: Like a junkie shooting pure quicksilver into his veins, Frankie got turned on by the wildest narcotic known to man: success! The parts got bigger and bigger... Frankie got hungrier and hungrier.

Frankie: I never said anything about creaming Barney Yale. Hymie Kelly: Birdseed!

Frankie Fane: Will you stop beating on my ears! I've had it up to here with all this bring-down!

Frankie Fane: Are you a tourist or a native? Kay Bergdahl: Take one from Column A and two from Column B. You get an egg roll either way.

Hymie Kelly: You finally made it, Frankie! Oscar night! And here you sit, on top of a glass mountain called "success." You're one of the chosen five, and the whole town's holding its breath to see who won it. It's been quite a climb, hasn't it, Frankie? Down at the bottom, scuffling for dimes in those smokers, all the way to the top. Magic Hollywood! Ever think about it? I do, friend Frankie, I do...

Kay: Sometimes I get the feeling, Frankie, you ought to be chained up with a ring in your nose.

Frankie Fane: Tell 'em "game called on account of Oscar."

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