Ulysses: When I was a soldier, my fingers were frost-bitten. Since then, when I get cold there is a pain.
Edward Wilson: Maybe you shouldn't live in Russia.
Valentin Mironov #2: Soviet power is a myth. Great show. There are no spare parts. Nothing is working, nothing, it's nothing but painted rust. But you, you need to keep the Russian myth alive to maintain your military industrial complex. Your system depends on Russian being perceived as a mortal threat. It's not a threat. It was never a threat. It will never be a threat. It's a rotted, bloated cow.
Edward Wilson: If we continue down this road, there will be a third world war. I don't think either of us wants a real war.
Ulysses: What would you do for a living then?
Edward Wilson: How do you know I am the right person?
Ray Brocco: I was told you were a serious son of a bitch with no sense of humor, there can't be two of you.
Edward Wilson: You are never to tell anyone what it is that I do.
Clover Wilson: What you do? I don't know what you do! You leave at five, you're home at ten, seven days a week! I live with a ghost! I don't know anything about you.
Ulysses: Hello, I believe you know me as Ulysses. Do you know what our code name is for you... it's "Mother." Yes, they said you were the quiet type. But your silence speaks volumes, what is the saying?"Your silence is deafening," yes that is it. You will be a great advesary Mother, hopefully for many years.
Philip Allen: They're a weakness of mine. When I was a child, my mother would always reward me with a chocolate. It's a dreadful habit.
Edward Wilson: The chocolates or seeking approval.
Edward Wilson: And, yet, a certain word, a glance, a guise, will mirror, never show, reflecting not my gaze, but my uncertain question caught inside a shadow of our shifting eyes.
Dr. Fredericks: That really is quite elegant, Mr. Wilson. Good order, very precise, feeling of the unknown. Fine poetry is the music of mathematics, numbers, singing. You have to look behind the words to understand their meaning.