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.
Tom: Alright, I dig holes.
Grandsanta: The Santas always come through Canada. Nobody lives here. It's nice and quiet.
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.
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?
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.
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.
Vyvyan Ayrs: That's it! The music from my dream.
Robert Frobisher: I call it the "Cloud Atlas Sextet."
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.
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.
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.
Join the mailing list
Separate from membership, this is to get updates about mistakes in recent releases. Addresses are not passed on to any third party, and are used solely for direct communication from this site. You can unsubscribe at any time.Check out the mistake & trivia books, on Kindle and in paperback.