In Casablanca, I am master of my fate.

A case of do or die.

Then, by train or auto or foot, across the rim of Africa...

Madame Sebastian has charge of all the house keys, madame.

There must be no suspicion of her, of you or me.

Some of the closets are locked. Could you give me the keys?

...to determine the guilt or innocence of the accused.

Everything she knew or ever became was because of him.

Well, of course, it is more or less routine now.

You've got me in some kind of a spell, or something.

Each of us has a destiny. For good, or for evil.

I don't care what they think of architecture or anything else.

It cannot be subordinated to the needs, opinions, or wishes of others.

Now get out of here, Bert or I'll hit you again! Get out!

And I'm gonna have a couple of harems, and maybe three or four wives.

You know, also, that for a number of years I've been trying to get control of it or kill it.

Now, go on and get out of here, or so help me, I'll turn you in.