Gwyneth Paltrow: Marge Sherwood

The Talented Mr. Ripley

Marge Sherwood

Marge Sherwood: The thing with Dickie... it's like the sun shines on you, and it's glorious. And then he forgets you and it's very, very cold.
Tom Ripley: So I'm learning.
Marge Sherwood: When you have his attention, you feel like you're the only person in the world, that's why everybody loves him so much.

Marge Sherwood: Dick? Dickie? I know you can hear me. What am I doing, chasing you around...? I was going to say I would count to three and if you didn't open the door, but I won't count any more. On you. I won't count on you any more. Whatever it is, whatever you've done or haven't done, you've broken my heart. That's one thing I know you're guilty of, and I don't know why, I don't know why, I just don't know why...

Dickie Greenleaf: You're so white! Have you ever seen a guy so white, Marge? Grey, actually.
Tom Ripley: It's just an undercoat.
Dickie Greenleaf: Say again?
Tom Ripley: You know a primer.
Dickie Greenleaf: That's funny. Margie likes that 'cause she's so white too.
Marge Sherwood: Yes, I do and you're not funny.

Dickie Greenleaf: How could it take an hour to find an ambulance?
Marge Sherwood: She was already dead, darling.
Dickie Greenleaf: I don't know why people say this country is civilised. It isn't. It's fucking primitive!

Tom Ripley: That ring is superb.
Marge Sherwood: Oh, Tom, I love you! See?
Dickie Greenleaf: I had to promise, capital p, to never take it off. Otherwise I'd give it to you.
Marge Sherwood: Isn't it great? I found it in Naples. I had to bargain for it for about two weeks!
Dickie Greenleaf: Uh, I hope it wasn't cheap, Marge?
Marge Sherwood: Oh, it was!

Marge Sherwood: I feel as if you haven't been listening to anything I've been saying to you.
Tom Ripley: I don't believe you. I don't believe you.
Tom Ripley: It's all true.
Marge Sherwood: I don't believe a single word you've said.
Tom Ripley: You're shivering, Marge. Look at you, Marge. Can I hold you? Will you let me hold you?

Marge Sherwood: Tom was telling me about his journey over. Made me laugh so hard I almost got a nosebleed.
Dickie Greenleaf: Is that good?
Marge Sherwood: Shut up.
Dickie Greenleaf: I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm despicable. But I love you. Do you love me?

Meredith: Marge, I don't know you, so I've got no right to - Dickie loves you. He's - I think you'll find he's on his way home to you.
Marge Sherwood: Well, how would we know that?
Meredith: He told me everything. I was supposed to meet him fifteen minutes ago, so - I'm going to go now, I think. God, unless he meant us to meet? That would be a little cruel, wouldn't it?
Peter: No, we're meeting another friend. Tom Ripley.
Marge Sherwood: Do you know Tom Ripley?
Meredith: No! No. I've heard about him, of course, but, I didn't - meet him. No.

Dickie Greenleaf: Hey, you like jazz?
Tom Ripley: I love jazz.
Dickie Greenleaf: [looking through some LPs] Oh! This is the best. Baker. Rollins. Marge says she likes jazz; but, she thinks Glenn Miller's jazz.
Marge Sherwood: I never said that!
Tom Ripley: Bird. That's jazz.
Dickie Greenleaf: Bird? Ask me the name of my sailboat.
Tom Ripley: I don't know. What's the name of your sailboat?
Dickie Greenleaf: Look! Look! Bird!
Marge Sherwood: Which is ridiculous. Boats are female, everyone knows you can't call a boat after a man.
Tom Ripley: He's not a man, he's a god.

Marge Sherwood: [to Tom] I thought you were going to Venice?
Peter: Yes, what happened with that? I heard you were desperate to come. I was rather looking forward to rowing you around.
Tom Ripley: I am. I really am. I've been traveling and I just can't seem to get that far north.
Peter: Well you should hurry, before we sink.