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- He starts removing his shirt. (pg 92)
-  Grinning (pg 96)
- You want some rough-house! (pg 96)
- We've had this date with each other from the beginning. (pg 97)

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- Light? Which light? What for? (pg 86)
- I don't want realism. (pg 86)
- She pours herself another drink. (pg 87)

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- I  don't think I ever seen you in the light. (pg 86)
- I've never had a real good look at you, Blanche. (pg 86)
-  I was a fool enough to believe you was straight. (pg 87)
- What I been missing all summer.. You're not clean enough to bring in the house with my mother. (pg 89)

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- Voulez-vous couchez avec moi ce soir? Vous ne comprenez pas? (pg 61)
- Speaks with affection of demureness.
- Yes, honey?
- You disgust me...

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- Can I - uh - kiss you - good-night? (pg 60)
- Are you laughing at me? (pg 61)
- I better leave it on. (pg 62)
- How old are you? (pg 65)

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When people are soft- soft people have got to court the favour of hard ones.
...You've got to be soft and attractive. And I - I'm fading now!

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Contrast to southern way of thinking controlled by desire.
Blanche, "What are you talking about is brutal desire- just- desire.
Stella, "Haven't you ever ridden on that streetcar?"

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- I was- sort of - thrilled by it.
- He was as good as a lamb.
- Stanley doesn't give me a regular allowance, he likes to pay bills himself, but- this morning he gave me ten dollars to smooth things over.

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Poker shouldn't be played in a house with women.

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He advances and disappears. There is the sound of a blow. Stella cries out.

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You hens cut out that conversation in there.

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You see, under the Napoleonic code- a man has to take interests in his wife's affairs.

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He stalks into the bedroom and she follows him.

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From the land of the sky blue water. They brought a captive maid.

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Yes. A different species.

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I am not a Polack. People from Poland are Poles, not Polacks. But what I am is a one hundred percent American, born and raised in the greatest country on earth and proud as hell of it, so don’t ever call me a Polack.

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Oh, I guess he’s just not the type that goes for jasmine perfume, but maybe he’s what we need to mix with our blood now that we’ve lost Belle Reve.

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They told me to take a street-car named Desire, and transfer to one called Cemeteries, and ride six blocks and get off at—Elysian Fields!

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There are thousands of papers, stretching back over hundreds of years, affecting Belle Reve as, piece by piece, our improvident grandfathers and father and uncles and brothers exchanged the land for their epic fornications—to put it plainly! . . . The four-letter word deprived us of our plantation, till finally all that was left—and Stella can verify that!—was the house itself and about twenty acres of ground, including a graveyard, to which now all but Stella and I have retreated.