[Upon boarding the ship with Fabrizio]
Jack: We are the luckiest sons of bitches in the world, you know that?
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Ruth: So this is the ship they say is unsinkable.
Cal Hockley: It is unsinkable. God himself could not sink this ship.
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Rose: Teach me to ride like a man.
Jack: And chew tobacco like a man.
Rose: And spit like a man!
Jack: What, they didn't teach you that in finishing school?
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Cal Hockley: Where are you going? To him? To be a whore to a gutter rat?
Rose: I'd rather be his whore than your wife.
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[as Jack sketches her in the nude]
Rose: I believe you are blushing, Mr. Big Artiste. I can't imagine Monsieur Monet blushing.
Jack: He does landscapes.
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Molly Brown: [to the group who are dining at the same table] Hey, uh, who thought of the name Titanic? Was it you, Bruce?
Ismay: Yes, actually. I wanted to convey sheer size, and size means stability, luxury, and above all, strength.
Rose: Do you know of Dr. Freud, Mr. Ismay? His ideas about the male preoccupation with size might be of particular interest to you.
Ruth: [whispering] What's gotten into you?
Rose: Excuse me.
[She rises and leaves]
Ruth: I do apologize.
Molly Brown: She's a pistol, Cal! Hope you can handle her.
Cal Hockley: Well, I may have to start minding what she reads from now on, won't I, Mrs. Brown?
Ismay: Freud? Who is he? Is he a passenger?
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Ruth: Tell us of the accommodations in steerage, Mr. Dawson. I hear they are quite good on this ship.
Jack: The best I've seen, ma'am. Hardly any rats.
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