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Murder, She Wrote (season 4)

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Murder, She Wrote (1984–1996) is an American television show, airing on CBS, about mystery writer and amateur detective Jessica Fletcher.

A Fashionable Way to Die [4.1] edit

Eva Taylor: How was your flight across the Channel?
Jessica: You know, I am such a diplomat. I switched from tea to Perrier halfway across.
Jessica: If that man extorted money from you, there are laws. But there's no law that says that I can't help you out.
Inspector Panassic: I have boiled the ragout down to the simple meat and potatoes you Americans can understand. A maid identifies Eva's coat. Eva's button is found in the victim's room. And Eva's motive is the second oldest one in the book.
Peter Appleyard: Mrs. Fletcher, do you realize what you're suggesting?
Jessica: Not suggesting, Peter. Considering.

When Thieves Fall Out [4.2] edit

Andrew Durbin: It's nice to see things haven't changed much.
Jessica: Oh, then you've been to Cabot Cove before.
Andrew: Years ago. Matter of fact, I stayed a bit longer than I'd planned.
Jessica: Well then, this should be quite a nostalgic vacation for you. Or are you here on business?
Andrew: A little of both. But mostly just to soak up a lot of sunshine and good, clean salt air.
Jessica: [Laughs] You sound to me like someone with a raging case of cabin fever.
Andrew: Mrs. Fletcher, you are a master of understatement.
Coach Kevin Cauldwell: I fell head over heels for this woman my first day at the school. But for some unfathomable reason, she wouldn't leave her husband. [All laughing] Then I met Frank Fletcher, and I gave up the chase. Best friends a man could hope for.
Perry Sillman: Maybe I'd better go see if Dan's okay.
Tara Sillman: Let Coach handle it.
Perry': Tara, I-
Tara: Perry, you can't help him. School's out.
Jessica: I'm sorry, but what you did was totally reprehensible.
Andrew: Even though your friend was guilty of murder?
Jessica: That was a matter for the courts.
Andrew: Was it? You mean the same courts that sent me away to prison? That robbed me of 20 precious years? That locked me away in an 8-by-10 cell like an animal for a crime I didn't commit? While Bill Hampton and his confederate were free to enjoy a life I never had and never will have! You have a bizarre definition of justice, Mrs. Fletcher.
Andrew:I came to say good-bye and to thank you.
Jessica: I'd rather you didn't.
Andrew: But I was telling you the truth, and I did spend 20 years in prison unjustly.
Jessica: Yes. And I'm sorry. But you knew when you came here what would happen.
Andrew: I wasn't sure, but I did warn you I was after justice.
Jessica: I can't help but think that justice could have been served in a better way.
Andrew: Oh? Well, you give it some thought, Mrs. Fletcher. And when you figure out what could have been, you let me know.

Witness for the Defense [4.3] edit

Jim Harlan: My wife's lovely ex-roommate suddenly appears out of the blue and then steals away before I've had a chance to pump her about old college romances.
Patricia Harlan: He'd probably change the names and put 'em in his book.
Jessica: Well, I'm afraid writers are accused of that, you know.
Attorney Oliver Quayle: What an excellent witness you're going to make. "Mrs. Fletcher, national reputation, no notoriety, Cabot Cove, Maine." The jury is going to love that rustic... Do you have a hat? An old straw with some violets?
Jessica': I've never owned a hat like that in my life.
Attorney Quayle: Well, never mind. Barnaby will get you one. And an umbrella! Yes, an umbrella will be a nice touch.
Jessica: Mr. Quayle, I'm sorry, but I am not going to play a countrified character for you or for anyone else.
Attorney Quayle: A few simple questions to clarify the excellent presentation so competently elicited by Mrs. Pirage. Or is it Miss?
Annette Pirage: Miss.
Attorney Quayle: Thank you, Miss Pirage. I'm a man who likes to be precise about small things, and I would hate to get off to a bad start by giving you a husband if you don't have one.
Annette: When I decide I want one, I'll remember your generous offer, Mr. Quayle.
Jessica: It's just a matter of common sense. I mean, it must have taken quite some time for the escaping gas from the basement to have reached the open flame in the kitchen. If Patricia were alive or conscious, she would have smelled the gas, don't you think?
Attorney Quayle: The Crown must prove that she didn't die in that fire.
Jessica: It's not a matter of proof. It's a matter of logic.
Annette: It's like being mugged.
Jessica: Is that kind of character assassination legal?
Annette: Not very, but it's what Oliver Quayle does best.
Jessica: I'm no expert, but I thought I noticed you landing one or two low blows yourself.
Annette: When a girl steps into the alley to duke it out with the great Oliver Quayle, she better have a set of brass knuckles in her glove.
Barnaby Friar: Sometimes, when things aren't going well, (Quayle) forgets his manners.
Jessica: When the jury brings in a verdict, you'd better have a muzzle handy.
Jessica: How many ex-wives does Mr. Quayle have?
Secretary: Three. [Smiles] All originally his secretaries.

Old Habits Die Hard [4.4] edit

Jessica: Do you remember that little flower patch that we started behind the Kappa Delta house?
Reverend Mother Claire: Do I remember! While you were knee-deep in marigolds, my zinnias just quit before they even started to bud.
Jessica: You know, the last time I saw Nellie, she was trying to organize a rafting excursion down the Snake River in Idaho.
Rev. M. Claire: [Laughing] Oh, dear Nellie. She couldn't open a can of peas without cutting a finger. I hope she survived.
Jessica: Oh, yes. She even sent me photos from her hospital bed.
Jessica: I hope I didn't make her feel uncomfortable.
Rev. M. Claire: You? The girl who managed to charm Dean Franklin out of a three-day suspension?
Jessica: You could have to if you had only stopped climbing that flagpole when he told you to.
Rev. M. Claire: What, and lose the bet?
[After discussing Sister Emily's death]
Rev. M. Claire: Ridiculous or not, it's obvious we'll have to postpone today's dedication.
Bishop Patrick Shea: Mother Superior, one moment. The parish has been rocked to the core by all of this with tremors reaching up to the cardinal himself, who agrees that the sooner we put this behind us, the better it'll be for everyone.
Rev. M. Claire: Surely you can't mean-
Bishop Shea: Case closed. Requiem aeternum pacem.
Bishop Shea: Mrs. Fletcher, with all due respect to that writer's imagination of yours, you are forgetting one fact. The convent was locked from dinner until the police arrived, which was after Sister Emily died. Now, how could Mike Phelps, Nancy Bates, or anybody else for that matter have broken in without leaving a trace?
Jessica: I admit I can't answer that.
Bishop Shea: No, I didn't think you could.
Jessica: Yet.
Jessica: I knew that there had to be another way into the convent. But what puzzled me was that none of the other sisters seem to know anything about it.
Nancy Bates: Easy. It was sealed right after the Civil War. Only a couple of wards found out about it in the '60s and they had it reopened without the sisters ever finding out. It's kinda been our little secret since. You know, a kind of matter of honor among the wards.
Jessica: Unfortunately, I'm afraid it's become a matter of murder.
Jessica: I must be overlooking something.
Rev. M. Claire: I'm afraid there's not much here to overlook. We lead a pretty austere life here.
Bishop Shea: Try to impress on your dear old friend here the obligation of obedience. She is a troublemaker, you know.
Jessica: Bishop, I'm afraid that is your problem. And a delightful one you're going to have to deal with for a long, long time.

The Way to Dusty Death [4.5] edit

Duncan Barnett: I love nothing better than a good argument. Except winning.
Lydia Barnett; Mr. Osborne, we've been expecting you. And Miss, uh...
Serena: Serena. Just Serena. Only one name like Ann-Margret.
Anne Hathaway: Vice Presidents are expected to look good, especially when they lose which, in my case, will be no problem at all.
Kate Dutton: The price we pay to help our husbands scale the ladder.
Jessica: I guess I was lucky. My husband Frank sold real estate and the only person he ever tried to butter up was my mother.
Virginia McCormack: Who the hell does he think he is?!
Morgan McCormack: He's the guy that runs the game, Ginny.
Virgina: My God. You act like you don't even care that that dinosaur refuses to become extinct!
Morgan: Even the dinosaurs died, Ginny. Time's on our side. The law of nature.
Virginia: Maybe we should give nature a little push.
Morgan: Let's go to bed, Ginny.
Virginia: Morgan. We're talking about your future! Our future. With him in control, how are you going to get to the top? He's only going to keep on playing you like a little lapdog.
Morgan: There are other companies. I mean, you just don't-
Virginia: Starting over? Morgan, is that what you want? Besides, everybody thought he was gonna die last year anyway. He's living on borrowed time as it is.
Morgan: There's a house full of people, Ginny.
Virginia: Exactly. A house full of suspects.
Tom Dutton: Believe me, Mrs. Fletcher. I only want what's best for this company.
Jessica: That seems to be what everybody says that they want.
Virginia: Jessica? I do hope you're not accusing my husband of murder. Because if you are, I think you ought to know that we have an excellent attorney whose only unattractive quality is his penchant for winning lawsuits.

It Runs in the Family [4.6] edit

Pru: Ever think about goin' back up on the stage yourself, Em?
Emma McGill: Me? Sing again? Oh, this voice isn't what it used to be. It's got more cracks than an old teapot.
Lord Geoffrey Constable: It's me, Emma. Not quite so, uh, so sprightly, perhaps?
Emma: Oh, I wouldn't say that. I think it's me the parade's passed by, love.
Johnny Constable: Are you here, Humphrey? What happened? Somebody die?
Humphrey Defoe: Happily, John, your uncle is reasonably well today.
Inspector Frost: Where money is concerned or a title for the taking, the human race is capable of practically anything.
Inspector Frost: Have you ever considered becoming a detective?
Emma: Me? [Laughs] Oh, go on with you!
Inspector Frost: No, really. You have a knack for it.
Emmma: Do I? Well, let's just say it runs in the family.

If It's Thursday, It Must Be Beverly [4.7] edit

Ideal Molloy: Oh, look, Eve! Here's a recipe for low-cal popcorn balls. And they're decorated to look like clocks.
Eve Simpson: How convenient. Next time you throw a cocktail party, your guests can gag and know what time it is.
Ideal: I must say, I feel like I'm going to get lucky today.
Eve: Oh, Ideal, you haven't gotten lucky since your husband left you.
Jessica: You know, I've never been very lucky at gambling. Once Frank and I went to Las Vegas, and I lost at roulette playing on both the black and the red at the same time.
Sheriff Tupper: What is it?
Jessica: Calamari.
Sheriff Tupper: Oh! [Chuckles] What's that? Some kind of fancy chicken?
Jessica: Something just doesn't add up though.
Sheriff Tupper: Oh, now, I've been waitin' for that, Mrs. Fletcher. You're gonna tell me there's no suicide note. But you know as well as I do, they don't always leave notes.
Jessica: I know, but what really bothers me is that women don't usually shoot themselves, Amos. I mean, they're more likely to take pills, which were certainly at Audrey's disposal.
Jessica: Look, it wasn't your fault that by the time we got back, the squid was a little rubbery.
Dr. Hazlitt: A little rubbery? We could have turned them into snow tires.
Jessica: Doesn't it seem a little strange to you that Eve also called in about her cat on Tuesday, last Tuesday and...
Sheriff Tupper: ...the Tuesday before that.
Jessica: You know, Phyllis Grant said something about Eve Simpson suddenly wanting two airline tickets yesterday, instead of one.
Sheriff Tupper: Makes you kinda wonder if it was the cat Jonathan was attending to or the canary.
Dr. Hazlitt: Where's my New Hampshire Weekly? I didn't get it this week.
George Tibbits: Should have come in yesterday.
Dr. Hazlitt: Well, yes, it should have come in yesterday, George, but it didn't.
George: Never got mine either, come to think of it. Maybe they just never got on the truck. Well, no news from New Hampshire that can't wait. [Laughing]
Dr. Hazlitt: It's a wonder anybody from this town ever got their draft notices from World War II.
Sheriff Tupper: Well, Doc, seems your nurse was one of Jonathan's regulars.
Dr. Hazlitt: Beverly?! Why, that is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard in all my life!!
Sheriff Tupper: According to the logbook, if it's Thursday, it must be Beverly.

Steal Me a Story [4.8] edit

[Acting out a scene as Dr. Balliard]
Gary Patterson: "Which means he was the one who hid in the alley waiting for Agatha Baxendale's chauffeur to respond to the blackmail note that had been sent to Agatha's brother-in-law Sidney the night before Naomi Randall's elopement with-" Ran off with who?
Script Prompter: Siegfried Perlmutter.
Gary: Siegfried? Perlmutter? Naomi? Who comes up with these names anyway?
Jessica: This Mr. Stone sounds like a very dishonest person.
Gayle Yamada: He's a television producer.
Gayle: Look, I'm sorry, Mr. Stone, but in good conscience, I-
Avery Stone: Yeah, honey, do yourself a favor. That conscience of yours? Lose it.
Sid Sharkey: Sweetheart, listen to me. Forget features. Forget Perlman. You're a TV star making big bucks.
Brenda Blake: I'm warning you. I'll walk.
Sid: You do, and you'll be slingin' hash at Dinty Moore's the rest of your life. We've got a contract, you and me, remember? Now it may be a trap, but it's lined with mink, so like they say, lay back and enjoy it.
Frieda Schmidt: I have your message for Mr. Sharkey right here. I'm sure he'll return your call as soon as possible.
Jessica: Yes, well, I have a great deal to say to him, and given a choice, I'd rather say it in person.
Gayle: Mrs. Fletcher, I haven't been here in Hollywoodland for very long, but one thing I have learned: Protect your fanny at all costs.
Frieda: I'm so sorry we couldn't get you something better but they give all the really good offices to the movie people.
Jessica: I think this is lovely.
Frieda: You should see what the genius in the corner office has. His last two pictures lost 30 million bucks. His fridge is stuffed with beluga caviar. Us they send Beer Nuts.

Trouble in Eden [4.9] edit

Jessica: I don't believe in coincidences, especially when they involve murder or attempted murder.
Lewis Framm: Doesn't it bother you that Charlotte probably died in this room?
Jessica: No, the only thing that bothers me is unanswered questions.
Lewis: I think I'm overdressed for the county recorder's office. I need bib overalls and a shovel for that filing mess.
Jessica: What's your offer?
C.J. Dobbs: $100,000, lock, stock and barrel.
Jessica: Well, I can speak for the lock and the barrel but the stock will have to speak for themselves.
C.J.: Ma'am?
Jessica: Before I can reply to your offer, my lawyer and I will have to look over Charlotte's books.
Jessica: Hurry! Take me to a telephone. I just lied about the sheriff, and I have to let him in on it.

Indian Giver [4.10] edit

George Longbow: Donna, look, my people have been bowing and scraping to the white man for centuries, and what did it ever get us? Indignation, humiliation and reservations. Not to mention several dozen diseases imported from Europe.
Donna Crenshaw: I understand where you're coming from, but these people feel threatened. It doesn't take a whole lot of fear to turn a crowd into a mob.
Professor Harold Crenshaw: Donna, I'm sorry. You think we can go inside, sit down, have lunch? We can make it a table for three.
Donna: Come on, George. I think we're about to negotiate a peace treaty.

Doom with a View [4.11] edit

Jessica: The Montaigne Plaza? Oh, my goodness. That hotel has more stars than the sidewalks in Hollywood.
Mark Havlin: If I let you know all the wonderful things I do around here, you'd have to give me a raise.
Garrett Harper: (Cornelia)'s the consummate workaholic. Rumor has it that she once took out time for dinner in 1965. But it's just a rumor.
Jessica: You know, if I read one more paragraph tonight, this manuscript is gonna start looking like one big typo.
Inspector Donald Matheney: You do have a writer's imagination, Mrs. Fletcher.
Jessica: Thank you.
Inspector Matheney: I didn't quite mean that as a-
Jessica: I know what you meant, Inspector.
Grady: I really appreciate all the trouble you went to, Aunt Jess.
Jessica: Good. Then maybe in gratitude you can tell me why you did something so... so...
Grady: Dumb?
Jessica: Look, Grady, the day that you and I can't have a good old-fashioned argument, I'm gonna start wondering where I went wrong.
Jessica: Good word.
Garrett: Hey, pal, now that Havlin's confessed, how'd you like to be my best man?
Grady: Aw, gee, I'd really like to, but I'm gonna be busy that day.
Garrett: I haven't told you the day.
Grady: I know.

Who Threw the Barbitals in Mrs. Fletcher's Chowder? [4.12] edit

Dr. Hazlitt: Well, look, perhaps you could take some time off, have a bit of lunch.
Sheriff Tupper: If I could take time off, I'd go to the bathroom.
Winnie Tupper Banner: It's hard to love a person when you don't know what they're gonna do next.
Dr. Hazlitt: His sister? My, my, my! [Chuckle] Well, I had always thought of Amos as one of a kind. Here, let me have a look at you. No, I'm afraid I don't see any family resemblance. And that, my dear, is all to your credit.
Jessica: Seth, look, I feel sorry for Winnie.
Dr. Hazlitt: Winnie?! What about me?!!
Jessica: Look, if she'd come to me, I would've taken her in. But she didn't, Seth, she came to you for help.
Dr. Hazlitt: Because I'm closer! Closer, woman! I'm a victim of geography!
Flo Oakes: Do you mean he died without ever wakin' up?
Dr. Hazlitt: Near the end, he did open his eyes for a brief period.
Kenny Oakes: Did he say anything?
Dr. Hazlitt: Elmo uttered exactly one word.
Sheriff Tupper: Somebody's name?
Dr. Hazlitt: No. It was an obscenity.
Jessica: Mr. Bellamy, did you ever see Elmo take pills?
Ed Bellamy: All the time. Like peanuts. Sometimes he was so high the only way you could see him was on radar.
Dr. Hazlitt: One thing about Amos's in-laws: They explain a lot about Amos.

Harbinger of Death [4.13] edit

Fay Hewitt: If you finally find this comet...
Leonard Palmer: When, not if.
Fay: ...they'll probably name it for you, posthumously. "Here lies Leonard Palmer, asleep at last."
Dr. Thor Lundquist: I'm a pragmatist, my friend, unlike my colleague Leonard Palmer who scans the night skies trying to discover the undiscoverable. If the government is interested in financing my lifestyle, I'll gladly furnish the government with anything it wishes.
Jessica: Dr. Palmer is on the verge of finding a comet.
Sgt. Kettler: I didn't know one was missing.
Jessica: Perhaps someone moved the telescope after Dr. Palmer left. Perhaps someone else wanted to know what was going on. Perhaps someone wanted to incriminate Dr. Palmer.
Sgt. Kettler: That's an awful lot of perhapses, ma'am.

Curse of the Daanav [4.14] edit

Richard Hazlitt: What's the point of having money if you don't spend it? Besides, all I want is a measly thou. You can call it an advance on my inheritance.
Carolyn Hazlitt: [Sighs] Carolyn, honey, these advances are becoming an all-out major assault.
Jessica: Seth Hazlitt, you are a monument to mulishness.
Carolyn: Oh, Uncle Seth! Having fun at Daddy's little soiree?
Mark Hazlitt: Don't be absurd, Carolyn. No one has fun. One simply survives from one drink to the next.
Richard: Remember that time when we got bombed on some of Dad's best Irish whiskey and tried to join the marines?
Dr. Hazlitt: The recruiting officer took one look at our faces, said, "All right, boys. Come back when you're sober and when you're at least 17."
Dr. Hazlitt: And here we sit. Two of the biggest fools that ever drew breath. What do you say we stop wasting it?
Richard: To us.
Dr. Hazlitt: You said it, Brother.
Lt. Steven Ames: Mrs. Fletcher, just between the two of us, which one are you with?
Jessica: I beg your pardon?
Lt. Ames: Well, I first suspected after our talk in the garage, but that bit about Muslims and Hindus? Dead giveaway. So which is it? FBI, CIA, NSC?
Jessica: Lieutenant Ames, I don't know who or what you think I am, but I assure you, I'm simply a mystery writer from Cabot Cove, Maine.
Lt. Ames: Cabot Cove. Nice touch.
Mark: Lawyers. Can't live with them, can't die without them.
Lt. Ames: I'd advise you not to plan any sudden vacations, Mr. Singh.
Vikram Singh: Only a man with something to hide runs away.

Mourning Among the Wisterias [4.15] edit

Eugene McClenden: If they want happy endings, let 'em go to the movies. It's art, Jessica. It has to end badly.
Crystal Wendle: Oh, Uncle Eugene, you know what the doctor said.
Eugene: That man's a sadist. He only knows about needles, scalpels and disgusting intrusions into the body.
Arnold Goldman: Eugene, it sure is nice to be working with you again. You trimmed down since the last time I saw you.
Ola Mae: He doesn't eat enough to keep a bird alive.
Eugene: Wages of sin, Arnold. And the price of great art.
Eugene: You know the life I've lived. Could be my liver's pickled, kidney's turned to stone, malignant cells multiplying feverishly in my stomach...
Jessica: But surely there must be something that can be done.
Eugene: Exploratory surgery? You keep the old vegetable alive for another six months just to watch him twitch? No. John Barleycorn will see me across the River Styx.
Crystal: Jessica, I think I owe you an explanation about last night.
Jessica: Only if it'll make you feel better.
Crystal: It's very important that Todd be a success in his new position in Jonathan's firm, and apparently, Jonathan misunderstood my interest in advancing Todd's career.
Jessica: Jonathan tried to exchange one advance for another?
Arnold: Trust? That's rarely the basis of a sound business arrangement.

Murder Through the Looking Glass [4.16] edit

Sgt. Cooper: So, Mrs. Fletcher, sorry. Seems like you were right. Mr. Cosgrove has turned up on a cold slab in the morgue.
Jessica: He's also in a warm bed in Farmington. I met him right after he'd been shot in the head and the heart and dumped into the Connecticut River and he seemed to have taken it very well.
Father Patrick Francis: I'm being perfectly honest with you. And since you penetrated my cover, you're going to have to trust me.
Jessica: Why?
Father Francis: Well, now, that's a good question. How about because I work for the government?
Jessica: Do you trust everyone who works for the government?
Father Francis: Okay, when this is over, you remind me and whatever you don't like, I'll just pluck out of the file and it will be as if it never happened. Jessica, I want you to find out what's going on in that safe house, and I want you to share it with me.
Jessica: In other words, you want me to spy on others so that you can fill their files? My answer to that is, no, thank you.

A Very Good Year for Murder [4.17] edit

Jessica: Seventy-five is a milestone. It's not the end of the road.
Ben Skyler: But my real ambition is to write a novel. Are there any tips you could give me?
Jessica: Oh, read, read and read some more.
Police Chief Thaddeus Kyle: So, Mrs. Fletcher, are you enjoying the party?
Jessica: Oh, yes, although I shudder at the thought of all these calories. But they smell so wonderful.
Jessica: Stella told me that Salvatore has been under great pressure from an eastern conglomerate to sell.

Kansatronics... something like that.

Chief Kyle: Well, now you're telling me that a Fortune 500 is hiring mob muscle to negotiate their contracts?
Jessica: Maybe this company isn't even in the Fortune 5,000.
Salvatore Gambini: Everybody dies. It's what you do before you die that's important.

Benedict Arnold Slipped Here [4.18] edit

Jessica: Poor Tillie. She was forgotten before she was gone.
Dr. Hazlitt: I've seen larger crowds at the drive-in theater waiting in line for mosquito spray.
Wilton Tibbles: Benny, whatever it is, I'm not interested.
Benny Tibbles: Well, you should be interested, little brother, because I am perfectly willing to cut you in on something very big.
Wilton: Ah. How big? About the size of a white elephant?
Jessica: How does it look?
Eve Simpson: Ah, where to start? The building is ancient and dilapidated, the plumbing needs to be ripped out and replaced, the wiring is a joke, the roof is shot, the building has dry rot and will never pass a termite inspection, the septic tank is inadequate, the trees are dying, the fence is falling down, the backyard is a dump.
Eve: The word is the new owner's in town.
Jessica: I can see that the beauty parlor for communication system is working in good order.
Benny: I wouldn't let you handle this stuff if you were the last antique dealer in the world.
Wilton: There's more than one way to skin a cat.
Benny: You know, I've heard that all my life, and I still don't know what it means.
Wilton: Be careful. You might find out.
Eve: Mr. Andrews is thinking of buying this house.
Alastair Andrews: If so, I shall have the house dismantled and shipped back to England.
Sheriff Tupper: England? What for?
Alastair: To have it reassembled, as a shrine to Benedict Arnold.
Sheriff Tupper: A shrine?!
Jessica: Uh, Amos, uh, don't you think you should get the tape out of your car to seal off the den?
Sheriff Tupper: Next thing you know we'll be celebratin' Mussolini's birthday.
Jessica: I stopped by the lawyer's office. He said that you haven't furnished him with any identification.
Liza Adams: Well, like, I burned my birth certificate and my passport in 1970 when I declared myself a citizen of the universe.
Jessica: Do you have a driver's license?
Liza: I burned that in 1972. It was an anti-pollution rally.
Jessica: Any credit cards?
Liza: Ha! You gotta be kidding. Oh, so I got no I.D. Does that make me a non-person?
Jessica: No, it doesn't. But it may make it difficult for you to establish a legal claim to your legacy.
Eve: I would get down on my knees and beg, but this is my last good pair of panty hose!
Jessica: Mr. Andrews is in the den, getting the feel of 1780.
Sheriff Tupper: Doesn't he know his side lost the war?

Just Another Fish Story [4.19] edit

Harry Finlay: The more you abuse the nouveau riche, the better they tip.
Harry: Mimi, I want you to meet a real writer. This is Jessica Fletcher, mystery novelist. Mimi Harcourt, gossip.
Mimi Harcourt: Not gossip, Harry. Trends.
Jessica: You're a columnist? Oh, I've always thought that must be the hardest job.
Mimi: Well, I'm afraid I haven't read you either, Jennifer. But, of course, my readers aren't into fiction, they're more into making their own scene.
Grady: (Asking Jessica her impression of his fiancée) She's, uh- She's pretty okay, isn't she?
Jessica: Mm-hmm. Donna gives new meaning to "Okay", believe me.
Mimi: The food biz is all theater. Part of the excitement is watching the changing cast of characters.
Lt. Ralph Rupp: You and your brother live together, ma'am?
Alice Brooke: This is New York. We own a restaurant, Lieutenant, not Rockefeller Center.
Lt. Rupp: My youngest wants to leave the house and go out on her own. I told her I got other plans for my pension.
Mimi: Look, this gig is about as permanent as origami tofu. They have gone through six journalists here in the last two years.
Jessica: Donna, people who love each other want to help each other.
Grady: I already met your father, and he fired me.
Donna: Oh, that's okay. I mean, he fires everybody. He probably won't even remember it.
Grady: Really? You think?
Donna: Oh, he fired me once too.

Showdown in Saskatchewan [4.20] edit

Jessica: Well, if (Marty)'s as good with horses as he is with visiting aunts from Maine, I'd say that (his rival) Mr. Talbot was in for a lot of trouble.
Wally Bryce: Guess we all knew that smokin' would get Doc someday, huh? Never figured it like that.
Jill Morton: I called you first thing at the motel.
Jessica:What time was that?
Jill: 8.30.
Jessica: First thing is around 7.00 for me.
Luke Purdue: You're sayin' somebody tried to kill me? That's crazy!
RCMP Inspector Roger McCabe: A man without enemies? You're a rare species, Mr. Purdue.
Jessica: Tenacity is an admirable virtue.
Carla Talbot: Until it turns into thick-headed stubbornness.
Jessica: Now, if you have any doubts about your future with Marty Reed, I suggest that you talk to him about it. Don't be afraid to ask him the hard question. If he doesn't give you the good answer, well, that's your answer. Remember one thing: You're the one who's gonna make up your mind about all this. Not me. Not your mother. But you.
Inspector McCabe: (When uncovering a clue) Strange.
Jessica: No, not strange at all.
Jill: It's Mom. She's gonna kill me when I get home.
Jessica: Well, if she does, it will be from asphyxiation due to excessive hugging.

Deadpan [4.21] edit

Eliot Easterbrook: Do you know that it has been said that the theater is a temple? If so, it is a temple which has frequently worshipped false gods. Only time and astute critical judgment will tell if Mainely Murder, which opens here tomorrow night, will honor the gods or yet again, profane them.
Jessica: Mr. Easterbrook, I am here to attend the opening night and to bask in Walter's success.
Eliot: Bask? Is that a prediction, Mrs. Fletcher, or just hype?
Jessica: Isn't it true that the only thing you can predict about the theater is that it is unpredictable?
Eliot: Oh, bravo, Mrs. Fletcher. You must have stayed up all night thinking that one up.
Jessica: No, actually. Molière did it for me about 200 years ago.
Shayne Grant: Curtain going up, darling!
Eliot: I hope you don't think by inviting me to your postprandial party, you'll color my reaction to your little play.
Shayne: Of course not, darling, but missing the first scene might.
Barney Mapost: [After he leaves the lobby] Finally I get it! He likes being late! He's only comfortable in the dark!
Shayne: Like all creatures who prey off the living.
Lt. Aloyius Jarvis: (About Eliot) The guy gets paid for being insulting. My cousin Marvin spent his lifetime doing that for free.
Lt. Jarvis: Oh, I don't know, Mrs. Fletcher. Finding him with the murder weapon in his hand? It's just too good to ignore.
Jessica: Exactly! It's too good.
Jessica: Mr. Easterbrook, doesn't it get tiring, being the voice of disdain?
Eliot: I never tire of putting people in their place.
Jessica: I can't help but wonder what interests are served when critics make destructive remarks simply to be, well, amusing.
Walter Knapf: Look, it isn't the way it seems.
Jessica: Well, maybe you can tell us the way it was.

The Body Politic [4.22] edit

Kathleen Lane: Mr. Hall, I don't want to talk about rumors. It demeans both our professions.
Edmund Hall: But five years ago, when you were mayor of your home town, stories persisted that you had an affair with a married man.
Kathleen: Forgive me, Mr. Hall. What should be put to bed in this campaign is gossip, not me.
Kathleen: The fact is, if it isn't a presidential election, the public interest is on a par with Saturday night wrestling.
Bud Johnson: (Reviewing one of Kathleen's upcoming speeches) It's good. Though you might want to soft pedAl this reference to day care for working mothers.
Jessica: But in a speech Kathleen gave last week, she came out for day care.
Bud: Yeah, well, that was at a day care center. The speech you're working on is for a couple hundred ladies at a country club, and they already have day care. They call her the maid.
Jessica: Have you considered that somebody else may have killed Mr. Johnson and framed Mrs. Lane for the express purpose of destroying her candidacy?
Lt. Gowans: It's crossed my mind.
Jessica: Next time it starts crossing, Lieutenant, please stop it halfway and give it some attention.
Edmund: The public loves a peek into a candidate's personal file.
Jessica: You know, at times it seems that's all they are interested in.
Lt. Gowan: I just heard on the radio that a new poll from the Daily Post says Mrs.Lane just fell 12 points behind you.
C.W. Butterfield: You can't say you're surprised.
Lt. Gowan: Surprised? Nothing about politics surprises me.
Edmund: The political beat puts people to sleep. It's dry, it's boring. They want to see Dallas, Knots Landing.
Kathleen: I've learned the hard way that a candidate is worth two angles to the media. When I was 20 points behind in the polls, they tried to build me up with those heart-rending stories about the gutsy underdog.
Jessica: But after molding you into David versus Goliath, they wanted a new angle for the morning edition.
Kathleen: If a candidate's character becomes the issue of the campaign, and the bedroom becomes the ballot box, then the candidate can no longer speak on the vital ideas and programs that should be addressed.
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