Dana Andrews: Dan

Night Song

Dan

Dan: I'll fix the drinks, what'll it be?
Miss Willey: Can we have coffee?
Dan: If you've got to.
Cathy: I'd like some coffee too.
Dan: Okay, I'll fix it.
Miss Willey: No, I'll do it. No man ever made coffee for me and no man ever will. Where's the kitchen?

Miss Willey: [after being served the fresh-caught fish] I think I'll fix some hamburger.
Dan: Hamburger?
Chick: You don't like fish?
Cathy: She loves fish.
Miss Willey: Not this particular fish. I can't eat it.
Chick: Now what the matter with this fish? It's good fish.
Dan: I caught it.
Chick: And I cooked it.
Miss Willey: But I met this fish this afternoon. I saw him swimming. He was alive and happy. I was an accessory before the fact of his death.
Chick: She's kidding, of course.
Miss Willey: This morning he had his life before him. Now he's lying on my plate, coated with cracker crumbs. I'm sorry, but I can't eat him.
Chick: How can you eat that potata? It was torn out of the ground, peeled, and boiled before your very eyes.
Dan: What about hamburger?
Chick: Yes, you eat beef, don't you? They slaughter beef.
Miss Willey: I don't witness the execution. I don't spend the afternoon with a cow.
Chick: [Chick contemplates the fish on his fork, and hesitates to eat it]

Cathy: I'd like to hear you play sometime.
Dan: No, I don't play anymore. I just trade boogie-woogie for a beer and hamburger.
Cathy: Why?
Dan: Because I like to eat.

Dan: What she look like?
Chick: Oh, not too big, not too small, not too bad to look at, not too bad to be around.

Cathy: Oh, don't be silly. If it weren't good, Rubenstein wouldn't play it. And if he's wrong, anything he plays will sound good.
Dan: Maybe. Maybe.

Artur Rubinstein: Are you nervous?
Dan: Me? No, I'm not nervous. Not a bit.
Artur Rubinstein: Ah, well I'm glad to hear that; because, if you were, there's not a thing to be done about it. I like your music. I like to play it.
Dan: Thank you, sir.
Eugene Ormandy: I am nervous, too.

Chick: [Greeting Dan] Hello, Mother, I'm home.
Dan: You shouldn't stay out so late, son. Cigarettes and loss of sleep is bad for your wind. You won't be able to blow your horn when you're a big boy.
Chick: Eh.

Dan: Boy, you have no idea how much better a cigarette taste when you can see the smoke.

Dan: I'm Exhibit A around here. I'm the blind piano player. She wants to know how I can find the keys with only my fingers. You tell her, it's a braille piano.

Chick: She certainly went for that music. So, she has brains to go with the diamonds!
Dan: Fall in love on your own time.

Chick: So, you're blind; but, Schubert's dead! It isn't the guy, it's the music. Can you see what I mean?
Dan: No, I can't see.

Dan: That's what you miss. I can feel rain or snow. I can touch a diamond or a fog, smell a rose or a river. But, color.

Dan: I made the grade, didn't I? It's more than a hop, skip and jump from the Chez Mamie to Carnegie Hall.