John:
“Now, listen here, Mr. Oakley, my wife . . . uh . . . Dr. Petersen
starred in three of his films and always maintained a professional relationship
with him.”
Marnie: “Well, look what happened to the rest of us. We were
poisoned, stabbed, strangled, thrown from a church tower, attacked by angry
birds, and almost drowned.”
John:
“You think you ladies had it bad? The men in his films are all
psychotic. We were either put in asylums or came from asylums. Like predatory
animals we stalked and murdered innocent women.”
Charlie:
“Look who’s talking. You’re a fool, Ballantine. You couldn’t save
yourself no matter what. You were wandering around pretending to be a famous
psychiatrist and surgeon, even to the point where you had scalpel in hand and
were ready to . . . what . . . perform a lobotomy? You wife, Dr. Petersen,
saved you. Love cures all, right?”
Brandon:
“That’s right. You would never be allowed to join the superior class of
people who are above such trivial human frailties.
Marnie
[looking at Brandon]: “Why is he here? Who else, besides you,
belongs to this superior class that you are always yakking about?”
Brandon:
“Your husband for one. He took matters into his own hands. You should
have been sent to prison for extorting thousands of dollars, but instead, he
marries you and that makes everything okay, just like Dr. Petersen marrying
Ballanine to cure him.”
Charlie
[shouting]: “Silly, rich women . . . it’s not fair!”
Norman: “I like women. But my mother thinks they are silly, too.”
Dr.
Peterson: “There’s a fine line between love and
hate. Don’t you think that love makes us vulnerable by exposing our own
weaknesses, causing us to strike out defensively in what can be construed as
hatred?”
Scottie
[shouting]: “So, Hitchcock used us to sort out his
emotions. Is that what you are saying, Dr. Petersen?”
[C. P., MD]
Unable to answer Scottie's question, Dr. Peterson cut today's session short.