Quotes from Jim Broadbent movies and TV shows

Mary: But he wasn't a bad person. He loved me.
Tom: Sounds to me that he was a duplicitous shit.

Mary: You can't go around with a big sign saying don't fall in love with me I'm married.
Tom: Well, most people wear a ring.
Mary: Well he didn't.

Tom: Alright, I dig holes.
Katie: That's just calling a spade a spade, isn't it?
Gerri: I always call it a shovel.
Tom: You call it a fork. I call it a trailer-mounted tripod cable percussive boring unit.
Gerri: That's why I love him.

Grandsanta: You were right, Arthur! It doesn't matter how Santa's gift gets there! It doesn't matter if it is Mr Postman in his Spaceship.
Arthur: Just as long as it gets there.
Grandsanta: You made it happen, Lad! No-one got left out.

Grandsanta: The Santas always come through Canada. Nobody lives here. It's nice and quiet.

Dad: Ciggy?
Bridget Jones: No. No thanks. I've given up again.
Dad: Shame. I find them very useful. I take great comfort in the fact that they might kill me before things actually get worse.

Susan Pevensie: Lucy thinks she's found a magical land...
Professor Kirke: Hmmm.
Susan Pevensie: In the upstairs wardrobe.
Professor Kirke: What? What did you say?
Peter Pevensie: Our sister... She thinks she's found a wood...
Professor Kirke: What was it like?
Susan Pevensie: Like talking to a lunatic...
Professor Kirke: No, no, not her, the wood!
Susan Pevensie: You don't mean you believe her?
Professor Kirke: And you don't?

Professor Kirke: What were you all doing in the wardrobe?
Peter Pevensie: You wouldn't believe us if we told you, sir.
Professor Kirke: Try me.

Susan Pevensie: It's our sister, Lucy.
Professor Kirke: The weeping girl.
Susan Pevensie: Yes, sir. She's upset.
Professor Kirke: Hence the weeping.
Peter Pevensie: It's nothing. We can handle it.
Professor Kirke: Oh, I can see that.

Timothy Cavendish: Two sprained ankles, one cracked rib. Official cause of accident listed on the hospital form: "Pussy."

Timothy Cavendish: I will not be subjected to criminal abuse.

Timothy Cavendish: We cross and re-cross our old paths like figure-skaters.

Vyvyan Ayrs: That's it! The music from my dream.
Robert Frobisher: I call it the "Cloud Atlas Sextet."

Iris Murdoch: I... wrote?
John Bayley: Yes, my darling, clever cat! You wrote books.
Iris Murdoch: Books... I wrote?
John Bayley: You wrote novels. Wonderful novels.
Iris Murdoch: I... wrote.
John Bayley: Such things you wrote. Special things. Secret things.

Meg: The other day, I'll have you know, a young man... tried to pick me up.
Nick: That doesn't surprise me... You're hot.
Meg: Thank you.
Nick: Hot, but cold.

Dylan: Chill out guys, I've got something stashed that just might help.
Brian: Dylan, we don't have time to indulge in recreational activities.

Tony Webster: I once knew a pasteurised lesbian.

Susie Webster: Oh, this whole thing's such a load of shit! I mean, our gene pool alone is bad enough. Workaholic meets curmudgeon, meets deranged 30-something.
Tony Webster: You're not a curmudgeon.
Susie Webster: I was talking about you.
Tony Webster: I know, darling.