Burn After Reading (2008) - Quotes

The Nature of Intelligence in the Workplace

Taglines: Intelligence is only their job.

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Complicated Relationships in a Spy World

Taglines: A high stakes love life and Jewel CIA shelter.

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The Relativity of Intelligence

Taglines: Intelligence is relative.

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Lessons in Confusion and Frustration

CIA Supervisor: Jesus Fucking Christ.

Palmer: Yeah.

CIA Supervisor: What did we learn, Palmer?

Palmer: I don't know, sir.

CIA Supervisor: I don't fucking know either. I guess we learned not to do it again.

Palmer: Yes, sir.

CIA Supervisor: I'm fucked if I know what we did.

Palmer: Yes, sir. It's, uh ... hard to say.

CIA Supervisor: Jesus Fucking Christ.

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Communication Breakdown in a High-Stress Situation

Palmer: Um, there is--

CIA Supervisor: What?

Palmer: Um--

CIA Supervisor: What?

Palmer: There is the woman, the gym woman, Linda Litzke--

CIA Supervisor: [exasperatedly] Oh, fuck, yeah! God! Where is she?

Palmer: Oh, we picked her up, we, we have her.

CIA Supervisor: We have her"? To-to-to do what with?

Palmer: She says she'll, uh, "play ball", if we pay for, um, some--I know this sounds odd--some surgeries that she wants. Cosmetic surgery. She says she'll sit on everything.

CIA Supervisor: How much?

Palmer: There were several procedures, altogether they--

CIA Supervisor: [dismissively] Pay it.

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Unexpected Actions in a Tense Situation

Palmer: Well, um, this analyst--Cox--was attacking the gym guy. Um, it was in broad daylight, on the street, and our man did not know what to do, felt he had to step in.

CIA Supervisor: ...yes?

Palmer: He, um, he shot the analyst. He shot Cox.

CIA Supervisor: Good.

CIA Supervisor: Great! Is he dead?

Palmer: No sir, he's in a coma.

Palmer: Um, they don't think he's gonna make it. They--they--they don't think--they're pretty sure that he has no, ah, no brain function.

CIA Supervisor: [sighing] Okay. Okay. If he wakes up, we'll worry about it then.

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Location of the Treasury Agent Revealed

CIA Supervisor: Where is the Treasury guy, Pfarrer?

Palmer: Right now?

CIA Supervisor: Right now.

Palmer: Um, he is in a detention room in Washington Dulles.

CIA Supervisor: Why?

Palmer: He was trying to board a flight to Venezuela. We had his name on a hot list, ah, CBP pulled him in. Um...don't know why he was trying to go to Venezuela.

CIA Supervisor: ...you don't know?

Palmer: No, sir.

CIA Supervisor: We have no extradition with Venezuela.

Palmer: ...oh. So what should we do with him?

CIA Supervisor: Fuck's sake, put him on the next flight to Venezuela!

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Discussion of Security Clearance Levels

CIA Supervisor: And this, uh, analyst--ex-analyst--uh...

Palmer: Cox.

CIA Supervisor: Yeah. What's his clearance level?

Palmer: Three.

CIA Supervisor: [shrugging] ...okay. No biggie.

CIA Supervisor: Just...for now, just keep an eye on everyone, see what they do.

Palmer: Yes sir. And we'll interface with the FBI on this, ah, dead body.

CIA Supervisor: No, no! God, no! We don't want those idiots bumbling around in this! Burn the body. Get rid of it. And, uh, keep an eye on everyone...see what they do. Report back to me, when, uh...I dunno. When it makes sense.

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CIA Inquiry into Messy Situation

CIA Supervisor: Palmer? What's up?

Palmer: Ah, not quite certain, sir, but it's...messy.

Palmer: Kalima 2 tells us they have computer files from an ex-analyst of mine, Osbourne Cox.

CIA Supervisor: Kalima 2...?

Palmer: Our man in the Russian embassy.

CIA Supervisor: Hmm.

Palmer: They were brought in to them by a woman--

CIA Supervisor: [interrupting] The Russians?

Palmer: Yeah. It was, ah, brought in by a woman named Linda Litzke, an associate of a guy named Harry Pfarrer. Her picture's in the file, with Pfarrer's.

CIA Supervisor: The Russians?

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Searching for the Missing Money

Linda: Where's the money?

Chad: He hit me.

Linda: Where's the money?!

Chad: [Pause] He didn't give it to me.

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Unexpected Enthusiasm for a DIY Project

Harry: [Leading Linda downstairs; Pulls the tarp off the machine] Yeah, I tell ya. I saw an ad for this in a gentlemen's magazine. Twelve hundred bucks, TWELVE HUNDRED BUCKS. I'm lookin at this thing and I think, "You gotta be kiddin me." I'm a hobbyist. Thing's basically nothing but speed rails. I figure I'd go down to Home Depot and whip this up myself for... a hundred bucks.

Linda: ...What is it?

Harry: [Points to the chair] What is it?? You sit down there, make yourself comfortable, put your feet in the stirrups, and...

Linda: [Hushed voice] Oh my God!... THAT'S FANTASTIC.

Harry: Something, isn't it? Hundred bucks, all in; not counting the labor and...the cost of the dildo; those things aren't cheap. See, I like to...I'm not set up to mold hard rubber.

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Clowns Misappropriate Osbourne's Memoirs

Katie: What is going on?

Osbourne: Some clown—a couple of clowns got ahold of my memoirs.

Katie: Your what?

Osbourne: Stole it or... I have no idea how they—

Katie: Your what?

Osbourne: My memoirs... the book I'm writing.

Katie: Why in God's name would they think that's worth anything?!

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Uncertainty in Identity and Communication

Osbourne: [sleepily] Hello?

Chad: Uhhh... Osbourne?... Osbourne Cox?

Osbourne: Yes?... Uh... Who is this?

Chad: Ummm... This ummm... Is this Osbourne Cox?

Osbourne: [still sleepy] Who is this?.. What time is it?.. Who is?

Chad: Um... I'm a Good Samaritan... I'm sorry I'm calling at such an hour... But I thought you might be worried...

Osbourne: Worried?

Chad: About the security...... Of your shit.

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Classified Information and Miscommunication in the Workplace

Chad: Throw it out?!

Linda: You can't do that! You should put a note up in the ladies locker room.

Chad: Put a note up? "Highly classified shit found, Signals Intelligence shit, CIA shit? Hello? Did you lose your secret CIA shit?" I don't think so.

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Misunderstanding Lactose Intolerance and Acid Reflux

Harry: Is this goat cheese?

Osbourne: Chevre, yes, that is a goat cheese.

Harry: Because I have lactose reflux. I can—

Osbourne: You're lactose intolerant? Or you have acid reflux? They're two different things.

Harry: I know what they are.

Osbourne: Then you misspoke.

Harry: [sarcastic] Well thank you for correcting me.

Katie: [walking up] Try the chevre, Harry, it's very good.

Harry: Oh, yeah, I can eat goat cheese.

Miscommunication About a Message

Osbourne: What did Kathleen say?

Katie: What?

Osbourne: When you left the message.

Katie: That she would give you the message!

Confrontation about Personal Issues and Accountability

Osbourne: This is an assault. I have a drinking problem? Fuck you, Peck. You're a Mormon!

Peck: Ozzie...

Osbourne: Next to you, we all have a drinking problem! What the fuck is this! Whose ass didn't I kiss! Huh?! Let's be honest!

Palmer: Okay, uh...

Osbourne: [opens the door; leaves] I mean, let us be fucking honest. This is a crucifixion! This is political! And don't tell me it's not! "I have a drinking problem.

Unpleasant Changes in Workplace Dynamics

Palmer: In fact, we're moving you out of Sigint entirely.

Osbourne: Just no discussion? Just, you're out?

Palmer: Well, we're having the discussion now. Look, um, Oz. This doesn't have to be unpleasant. Uh...

Osbourne: [looks at Olsen] Palmer, with all due respect. What the fuck are you talking about? And why is Olsen here?

Palmer: Uh, look, Ozzie, look...

Osbourne: What the fuck is this?! I know it's not my work.

Palmer: Ozzie...

Osbourne: I'm a great fucking analyst.

Palmer: Okay, Ozzie...

Osbourne: Is - is it my...

Palmer: Ozzie, things have not been going well, as you know.

Peck: You have a drinking problem.

Osbourne: I have a drinking problem?

Report Back When It Makes Sense

CIA Supervisor: Report back to me... when it makes sense.

Unexpected Violence and Confusion

Harry Pfarrer: [panicking, after having reflexively shot Chad in the head] Oh, my fuck! I shot a fucking spook! Who the fuck are you, you fucker?!

Frustration Over Financial Knowledge

Osbourne Cox: [on the phone] I'm sorry, I don't know the number to, uh, my savings account because, believe it or not, I don't spend my entire day sitting around trying to memorize the fucking numbers to my fucking bank accounts! MORON!