Gone with the Wind

— And another thing, those pantalets! I don't know a woman in Paris who wears pantalets anymore.
— What do they... You shouldn't talk about such things!
— You don't mind my knowing about them, just my talking about them.

The Confederacy may need the lifeblood of its men, but not the heart's blood of its women.

— Go on! I want you to go. I hope a cannonball blows you into a million pieces!
— Never mind the rest. I follow your general idea. And when I'm dead on the altar of my country, I hope your conscience irks you.

Of course, the comic figure in all this is the long-suffering Mr. Wilkes. Mr. Wilkes, who can't be mentally faithful to his wife and won't be unfaithful to her tecnically.

— How do I look?
— Awful! This war is stopped being a joke when a girl doesn't know the latest fashion.

With enough courage, you can do without a reputation.

— Has India dared..
— Yes, my dear, India has. Everyone in town knows the story.
— You should to kill them for spreading lies.
— I don't kill people who tell the truth.

— You must stay here!
— Without a chaperon? It simply isn't good..
— Heavens, this is war, not a garden party!

— Why should you go now that it's all over, and I need you? Why, why?
— Maybe it's because I've always had a weakness for lost causes, once they really lost. Or maybe... Maybe I'm ashamed of myself. Who knows?

No, I don't think I will kiss you, although you need kissing, badly. That's what's wrong with you. You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how.

Why, all we have is cotton and slaves and arrogance.