Tilda SwintonQuotes

Francis Bacon: Everybody, this is George. This is Muriel, Isabel, the beautiful Henrietta, and Deakin. Introduce yourselves. George is a little shy.

George Dyer: Hello...

John Deakin: So... who's Arthur and who's Martha?

Muriel Belcher: Oh, piss off, Deakin! I'm really sick of it!

John Deakin: I'll talk to you after you've had a shave...

John Deakin: I don't think you know me at all, Muriel.

Muriel Belcher: No, I don't give a fuck, dear. You're a nasty little shit, Deakin. You're a waste of space and you bore me. Why don't you ponce somewhere else. This Hitler was more generous than you.

Michael Cobb: You know, it was almost easier when he was always fucking up.

Audrey Cobb: Yeah?

Michael Cobb: It's like he thinks he's smarter than me.

Audrey Cobb: Well, maybe that's the way it goes.

Sherry: I'm like your mistress, except you're not even married.

Penny: So, what the fuck do you want, Donnie?

Sal: Now get some sleep, I may wish to have sex again before we eat breakfast.

Walt Bishop: Our daughter's been abducted by one of these beige lunatics!

Social Services: [to Scout Master Ward and Captain Sharp] You two are the most appallingly incompetent custodial guardians Social Services has ever had the misfortune to encounter in a TWENTY-SEVEN year career!

Karen Crowder: You don't want the money?

Michael Clayton: Keep the money. You'll need it.

Don Jefferies: Is this fellow bothering you?

Michael Clayton: Am I bothering you?

Don Jefferies: Karen, I've got a board waiting in there. What the hell's going on? Who are you?

Michael Clayton: I'm Shiva, the God of death.

Karen Crowder: You, you have to contain this.

Mr. Verne: Contain?

Karen Crowder: Right. Well, that's my question. What are the—what's the option that we're looking at, along those lines?

Mr. Verne: You're talking about the paper, the data? I don't…

Karen Crowder: Well, I'm wondering if there is some other option. I mean, something I'm not thinking of?

Mr. Verne: We deal in absolutes.

Marty Bach: Oh, for chrissake. Don Jeffries signed this? That's really his signature?

Karen Crowder: M-hm.

Marty Bach: Where's the original?

Karen Crowder: We had a warehouse fire five years ago. We lost a number of documents.

Karen Crowder: Who's this guy they're sending here? Clayton? I never heard of him.

Maude: Michael Raymond Clayton. Born September 9, 1959, St. Joseph's Hospital, Bronx, New York. Father is NYPD patrolman Raymond Xavier Clayton. Mother, Alice Mary Clayton. Graduates Washingtonville Central High School, Orange County, New York in 1977. Graduates St. Johns University 1980. Fordham Law, 82. Eighty-two through Eighty-six, he's ADA with the Queens District Attorney's office. And 1986, he's with the Joint Manhattan Queens Organized Crime Task Force. And then, in 1990, he starts with Kenner Boch and Ledeen.

Karen Crowder: So he's a partner?

Maude: No. He's listed as "special counsel". Says he specializes in wills and trusts.

Karen Crowder: He goes from criminal prosecution to wills and trusts? He's been there seventeen years, and he's not a partner? This is the guy they send? Who is this guy?

Karen Crowder: This is a three billion dollar class action lawsuit. In the morning, I have to call my board. I have to tell them that the architect of our defense was arrested for running naked in the street. What sickness is he talking about?

John Constantine: Why me, Gabriel? It's personal, isn't it? I didn't go to church enough, I didn't pray enough, I was five bucks short in the collection plate. Why?

Gabriel: [[life; pause, Gabriel leans in] You're going to die young because you smoked 30 cigarettes a day since you were 15… and you're going to go to hell because of the ] you took. You're fucked.

Gabriel: You still trying to buy your way into Heaven? … How many times have I told you? That's not the way this works.

John Constantine: Why, haven't I served Him enough? What does He want from me?

Gabriel: Only the usual. Self-sacrifice, belief.

John Constantine: Oh, I believe, for Christ's sake!

Gabriel: No, no. You know. And there's a difference. You've seen.

John Constantine: I never asked to see. I was born with this curse.

Gabriel: A gift, John. One that you've squandered on selfish endeavors.

John Constantine: I'm pulling demons out of little girls. Who's that for?

Gabriel: Everything you've ever done, you've only ever done for yourself—to earn your way back into His good graces!

Mason: [as sushi is prepared] You people are very lucky. This is only served twice in a year. In January and July.

Tanya: Why? Not enough fish?

Mason: Oh, enough is not the criterion. Balance. You see, this aquarium is a closed ecological system. And, um, the number of individual units must be very closely, precisely controlled. In order to maintain the proper sustainable balance.

Curtis: [[W:cockroach|made of] No. You eat this. You know what that's ]? Dig in.

Mason: He won't come here. He won't leave his engine.

Curtis: We're gonna rip you into little pieces. He still won't come? Well, we control the water. We turn that off, he'll have to come.

Mason: [seeing him react] Turn off the water? Well, you'll only be condemning your own people. The water comes from the front. The nose of the train, it breaks up the snow and ice and-and turns it into water. It's like an elephant's trunk. The water comes in the mouth. Not in the bum, Curtis. Yes, Wilford knows you well, Mr. Curtis Everett. He's been watching you. And we know you won't harm your own people. Too bad you couldn't save your second in command. What was his name? Edgar?

Curtis: Shut the fuck up!

Mason: Curtis, Curtis, I can help you.

Curtis: You can fucking die is what you can do.

Mason: Wilford won't come here. He's not coming. You've got to go to him. And I can take you. I know the train. I can guarantee you safe passage.

Curtis: Why the fuck would I trust you?

Mason: Because I want to live.

Mason: My friend, you suffer from the misplaced optimism of the doomed.

Mason: Order is the barrier that holds back the flood of death. We must all of us on this train of life remain in our allotted station. We must each of us occupy our preordained particular position. Would you wear a shoe on your head? Of course you wouldn't wear a shoe on your head. A shoe doesn't belong on your head. A shoe belongs on your foot. A hat belongs on your head. I am a hat. You are a shoe. I belong on the head. You belong on the foot. Yes? So it is. In the beginning, order was proscribed by your ticket: First Class, Economy, and freeloaders like you. Eternal order is prescribed by the sacred engine: all things flow from the sacred engine, all things in their place, all passengers in their section, all water flowing. all heat rising, pays homage to the sacred engine, in its own particular preordained position. So it is. Now, as in the beginning, I belong to the front. You belong to the tail. When the foot seeks the place of the head, the sacred line is crossed. Know your place. Keep your place. Be a shoe.

The Ancient One: I've spent so many years peering through time, looking at this exact moment. But I can't see past it. I've prevented countless terrible futures, and after each one, there's always another, and they all lead here but never further.

Strange: You think this is where you die.

The Ancient One: You wonder what I see in your future?

Strange: No. Yes.

The Ancient One: I never saw your future, only its possibilities. You have such a capacity for goodness. You've always excelled, but not because you crave success, but because of your fear of failure.

Strange: It's what made me a great doctor.

The Ancient One: It's precisely what's kept you from greatness. Arrogance and fear still keep you from learning the simplest and most significant lesson of all.

Strange: Which is?

The Ancient One: It's not about you. When you first came to me, you asked me how I was able to heal Jonathan Pangborn. I didn't. He channels dimensional energy directly into his own body.

Strange: He uses magic to walk.

The Ancient One: Constantly. He had a choice, to return to his own life or to serve something greater than himself.

Strange: So I could have my hands back again. My old life?

The Ancient One: You could, and the world would be all the lesser for it. I hated drawing power from the Dark Dimension, but as you well know, sometimes, one must break the rules in order to serve the greater good.

Strange: Mordo won't see it that way.

The Ancient One: Mordo's soul is rigid and unmovable, forged by the fires of his youth. He needs your flexibility, just as you need his strength. Only together do you stand a chance of stopping Dormammu.

Strange: I'm not ready.

The Ancient One: [Takes his hand] No one ever is. We don't get to choose our time. Death is what gives life meaning. To know your days are numbered, and your time is short. You'd think after all this time, I'd be ready. But look at me. Stretching one moment out into a thousand…just so that I can watch the snow.

Palmer: Maybe it's time to consider stopping.

Strange: No, no, this is exactly the time not to stop. Because, you see, I'm not getting any better!

Palmer: But this isn't medicine anymore, this is mania! Some things just can't be fixed.

Strange: Life without my work --

Palmer: -- is still life. This isn't the end. There are other things that can give your life meaning.

Strange: Like what? Like you?

Palmer: This is the part where you apologize.

Strange: This is the part where you leave.

Palmer: Fine. I can't watch you do this to yourself anymore.

Strange: What, too difficult for you, is it?

Palmer: Yes, it is. It breaks my heart to see you this way.

Strange: No. Don't pity me.

Palmer: I'm not pitying you.

Strange: Oh, yeah? Then what are you doing here? Bringing cheese and wine like we're old friends going for a picnic? We are not friends, Christine. We were barely lovers. You just love a sob story, don't you? Is that what I am to you now? "Poor Stephen Strange, charity case. He finally needs me." Another dreg of humanity for you to work on. Patch him up and send him back into the world, hearts just humming. You care SO MUCH, don't you?!

Palmer: Goodbye, Stephen.

The Ancient One: You're a man looking at the world through a keyhole. You've spent your whole life trying to widen that keyhole. To see more. To know more. And now on hearing that it can be widened, in ways you can't imagine, you reject the possibility.

Strange: No, I reject it because I do not believe in fairy tales about chakras or energy or the power of belief. There is no such thing as spirit! We are made of matter and nothing more. We're just another tiny, momentary speck in an indifferent universe.

The Ancient One: You think too little of yourself.

Strange: Oh, you think you see through me, do you? Well, you don't. But I see through you!

Strange: What did you just do to me?!

The Ancient One: I pushed your astral form out of your physical form.

Strange: What's in that tea? Psilocybin? LSD?

The Ancient One: It's just tea. With a little honey.

Strange: What just happened?

The Ancient One: For a moment, you entered the astral dimension. A place where the soul exists apart from the body.

Strange: Why are you doing this to me?

The Ancient One: To show you just how much you don't know. Open your eye!

The Ancient One: You think you know how the world works? You think that this material universe is all there is? What is "real"? What mysteries lie beyond the reach of your senses? At the root of existence, mind and matter meet. Thoughts form reality. This universe is only one of an infinite number. Worlds without end. Some benevolent and life-giving, others filled with malice and hunger. Dark places where powers older than time lie, ravenous and waiting. Who are you in this vast multiverse, Mr. Strange?

The Ancient One: Have you seen that before in a gift shop?

Strange: [After a long beat] Teach me.

The Ancient One: No.

The Ancient One: Master Kaecilius, that ritual will only bring you sorrow.

Kaecilius: Hypocrite!

The Ancient One: I'm sorry, I can't help you, Bruce. If I give up the Time Stone to help your Reality, I'm dooming my own.

Bruce Banner: With all due respect, I'm not sure the science really supports that.

The Ancient One: [conjures a long ray, denoting the flow of time with the Infinity Stones circling around it; pulls out one of the Stones, which causes a black stream indicating a point of divergence to appear] The Infinity Stones create what you experience as the flow of time. Remove one stone and that flow splits. Now, this may benefit your reality, but my new one… not so much. In this new branched Reality, without our chief weapon against the forces of darkness, our world will be overrun. Millions will suffer. So tell me Doctor, can your science prevent all that?

Banner: No, but we can erase it. Because once we are done with the stones, we can return each one to its own timeline at the moment it was taken. So, chronologically, in that reality, they never left.

The Ancient One: But you are leaving out the most important part. In order to return the stones, you have to survive.

Banner: We will. I will. I promise.

The Ancient One: I can't risk this Reality on a promise. It is the duty of the Sorcerer Supreme to protect the Time Stone.

Banner: Then, why the hell did Strange give it away?

The Ancient One: [Surprised] What did you say?

Banner: [[Avengers: Infinity War|he gave it away. He gave it to Thanos] Strange, ].

The Ancient One: Willingly?

Banner: Yes.

The Ancient One: Why?

Banner: I have no idea. Maybe he made a mistake.

The Ancient One: [Reunites Banner's spirit with his body] Or I did. Strange is meant to be the best of us.

Banner: So he must have done it for a reason.

The Ancient One: [Gives Bruce the Time Stone] I fear you might be right.

Banner: Thank you.

The Ancient One: I'm counting on you, Bruce. We all are.

The Ancient One: I'd be careful going that way. We just had the floors waxed.

Bruce Banner: I'm looking for Doctor Strange.

The Ancient One: You're about...five years too early. Stephen Strange is currently performing surgery about twenty blocks that way. What do you want from him?

Bruce Banner: That, actually. (He points towards the Eye of Agamotto)

The Ancient One: Ah! I'm afraid not.

Bruce Banner: Sorry, but I wasn't asking.

The Ancient One: You don't want to do this.

The Ancient One: Let's start over, shall we?

White Witch: I have no interest in prisoners. Kill them all.

Mr. Beaver: Go on!

Peter: For Narnia and for Aslan!

White Witch: You have a traitor in your midst, Aslan.

Aslan: His offense was not against you.

White Witch: Have you forgotten the sacred laws upon which Narnia was built?

Aslan: [snarling] Do not cite the Deep Magic to me, Witch! I was there when it was written.

White Witch: Then you'll remember well that every traitor belongs to me. His blood is my property.

Peter: Try and take him, then.

White Witch: Do you think that mere force will deny me my right, little king? Aslan knows that unless I have blood, as the law demands, all of Narnia will be overturned and perish in fire and water. That boy will die on the Stone Table as is tradition. You dare not refuse me.

Aslan: Enough! I shall talk with you alone.

Ginarrbrik: It's so warm out. I'll go and check the sleigh.

Wolf: Your Majesty. We found the traitor. He was rallying your enemies near the Shuddering Woods.

White Witch: Ah. Nice of you to drop in. You were so helpful to my wolves last night. Perhaps you can help me now.

Fox: Forgive me, Your Majesty.

White Witch: Oh, don't waste my time with flattery.

Fox: Not to seem rude, but I wasn't actually talking to you.

White Witch: Where are the humans headed?

Edmund: Wait! No! Don't. The beaver said something about the Stone Table, and that Aslan had an army there.

White Witch: An army? Thank you, Edmund. I'm glad this creature got to see some honesty before he dies.

Edmund: No!

White Witch: Think about whose side you're on, Edmund, mine or theirs? Go on ahead, gather the faithful. If it's a war Aslan wants, it's a war he shall get.

Mr. Tumnus: If... If you're not going to eat that... I'd get up, but... but my legs.

Edmund: Mr. Tumnus.

Mr. Tumnus: What's left of him. You're Lucy Pevensie's brother.

Edmund: I'm Edmund.

Mr. Tumnus: Yes. Yes, you have the same nose. Is your sister all right? Is she safe?

Edmund: I don't know.

White Witch: My police tore that dam apart. Your little family are nowhere to be found. Where did they go?

Edmund: I don't know!

White Witch: Then you're of no further use to me.

Edmund: Wait! The beaver said something about Aslan!

White Witch: Aslan? Where?

Edmund: I...

Mr. Tumnus: He's a stranger here, Your Majesty. He can't be expected to know anything.

White Witch: I said, where is Aslan?

Edmund: I... I don't know. I left before they said anything. I wanted to see you!

White Witch: Guard!

Guard: Your Majesty.

White Witch: Release the faun. Do you know why you're here, faun?

Mr. Tumnus: Because I believe in a free Narnia.

White Witch: You're here because he turned you in for sweeties. Take him upstairs and ready my sleigh. Edmund misses his family. Those coats anymore.

White Witch: Tell me, Edmund. Are your sisters deaf?

Edmund: No.

White Witch: And your brother. Is he unintelligent?

Edmund: Well, I think so. But Mum says...

White Witch: [gets up from her throne, furious] Then HOW DARE YOU COME ALONE?!

Edmund: I tried!

White Witch: Edmund, I asked so little of you.

Edmund: They just don't listen to me!

White Witch: You couldn't even do that.

Edmund: I did bring them halfway. They're at the little dam with the Beavers.

White Witch: Well. I suppose you're not a total loss then, are you?

Edmund: Well, I was wondering, could I maybe have some more Turkish delight now?

White Witch: [to Ginarrbrik] Our guest is hungry!

Ginarrbrik: This way for your num-nums.

White Witch: Maugrim? You know what to do.

White Witch: Tonight, the Deep Magic will be appeased. But tomorrow, we will take Narnia... forever!