A psychiatrist protects the identity of an amnesia patient accused of murder while attempting to recover his memory.

Dr. Alex Brulov: Good night and sweet dreams... which we'll analyze at breakfast.
Dr. Alex Brulov: Women make the best psychoanalysts until they fall in love. After that they make the best patients.
Dr. Alex Brulov: My dear girl, you can not keep bumping your head against reality and saying it is not there.
Constance Petersen: All analysts have to be psychoanalyzed by other analysts before they start practicing.
John Ballantine: Ahhh, that's to make sure that they're not too crazy.
John Ballantine: That Freud stuff's a bunch of hooey.
Dr. Alex Brulov: Oh, you are a fine one to talk! You have a guilt complex and amnesia and you don't know if you are coming or going from somewhere, but Freud is hooey! *This* you know! Hmph! Wiseguy.
Dr. Murchison: The old must make way for the new, especially when the old is suspected of senility.
Dr. Alex Brulov: I congratulate you and wish you have babies, not psychoses.
Constance Petersen: I think the greatest harm done the human race has been done by the poets
Anthony Edwardes: Oh, poets are dull boys, most of them, but not especially fiendish.
Constance Petersen: They keep filling people's heads with delusions about love... writing about it as if it were a symphony orchestra or a flight of angels.
Anthony Edwardes: Which is isn't, eh?
Constance Petersen: Of course not. People fall in love, as they put it, because they respond to a certain hair coloring or vocal tones or mannerisms that remind them of their parents.
Anthony Edwardes: Or... or... sometimes for no reason at all.
Constance Petersen: That's not the point. The point is that people read about love as one thing and experience it as another. Well, they expect kisses to be like lyrical poems and embraces to be like Shakespearean dramas.
Anthony Edwardes: And when they find out differently, then they get sick and have to be analyzed, eh?
Constance Petersen: Yes, very often.
Anthony Edwardes: Professor, you're suffering from "mogo on the gogo"
Constance Petersen: I beg your pardon!
John Ballantine: For what it's worth, I can't remember ever having kissed another woman before.
John Ballantine: I'm haunted, but I can't see by what!
[last lines]
Dr. Alex Brulov: And remember what I say - any husband of Constance is a husband of mine, so to speak.
John Ballantine: [laughing] All right! Goodbye; good luck!
Dr. Alex Brulov: Good bye!
John Ballantine: Now, this honeymoon is complicated enough without your dragging medical ethics into it.
Dr. Alex Brulov: We are speaking of a schizophrenic and not a Valentine.
Constance Petersen: We are speaking of a man.
[first title card]
Title Card: The fault... is not in our stars, but in ourselves... - Shakespeare
Dr. Alex Brulov: There's lots of happiness in working hard. Maybe the most.
John Ballantine: If there's anything I hate, it's a smug woman.
Dr. Alex Brulov: And how do you know what his real character is?
Constance Petersen: I know. I know.
Dr. Alex Brulov: She knows. This is the way science goes backward. Who told you what he is? Freud?, or a crystal ball?
Dr. Alex Brulov: You grant me I know more than you, but on the other hand, you know more than me. Women's talk. Bah!
Dr. Alex Brulov: Apparently the mind is never too sick to make jokes about psychoanalysis.
Dr. Alex Brulov: What is there for you to see? We both know that the mind of a woman in love is operating on the lowest level of the intellect!
Constance Petersen: I'll make you coffee with an egg in it.
[after John has finally admitted that Dr. Edwardes fell off a cliff in a skiing accident and that he did not murder him]
Constance Petersen: Well, thank goodness it's all cleared up.
Det. Lt. Cooley: Well, not quite, Dr. Petersen. I'm afraid a bullet was found in the body.
[first lines]
Nurse: [offscreen] Miss Carmichael, please. Dr. Petersen is ready for you.
John Ballantine: Do you want ham or liverwurst?
Constance Petersen: Liverwurst!
Constance Petersen: I'm here as your doctor only. It has nothing to do with love.
[John kisses her and they embrace each other tightly]
Constance Petersen: Nothing at all. Nothing at all...
Dr. Murchison: [with his revolver pointed at Constance] You're an excellent analyst, Dr. Peterson, but a rather stupid woman.
Constance Petersen: Are you making love to me?
Dr. Fleurot: I will in a moment. I'm just clearing the ground first.
Dr. Fleurot: It's rather like embracing a textbook.
Constance Petersen: But why do you do it, then?
Dr. Fleurot: Because you're not a textbook.

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