Wick Birnem : Trees and grass and sweet cider, buttermilk and water from that well that's colder than any old...
Don Birnam : Wait, please! Why this emphasis on liquids? Very dull liquids!
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Wick Birnem : If it happens, it happens and I hope it does. I've had six years of this. I've had my bellyfull... Who are we fooling? We've tried everything, haven't we? We've reasoned with him. We've baited him. We've watched him like a hawk. We've tried trusting him. How often have you cried? How often have I beaten him up? Scrape him out of a gutter and pump some kind of self-respect into him and back he falls, back in every time.
Helen St. James : He's a sick person. It's as though there was something wrong with his heart or his lungs. You wouldn't walk out on him if he had an attack. He needs our help.
Wick Birnem : He won't accept our help. Not Don, he hates us. He wants to be alone with that bottle of his. It's all he gives a hang about. Why kid ourselves? He's a hopeless alcoholic.
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[first lines] 
Wick Birnem : You better take this along, Don. It's gonna be cold on the farm.
Don Birnam : Okay.
Wick Birnem : How many shirts are you taking?
Don Birnam : Three.
Wick Birnem : I'm taking five.
Don Birnam : Five?
Wick Birnem : Yeah, I told them at the office I might not be back until Tuesday. We'll get there this afternoon. That'll give us all Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday. We'll make it a long, wonderful weekend!
Don Birnam : It sounds long all right.
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Don Birnam : Who likes Brahms? You or I?
Wick Birnem : Since when don't you like Brahms?