And Then There Were None (1945)
Emily Brent: Very stupid to kill the only servant in the house. Now we don't even know where to find the marmalade.
Thomas Rogers: Never in my life have I been accused of any crime, sir - and if that's what you think of me, I shan't serve any dinner.
Philip Lombard: Hello puss, looking for a mouse? So are we.
Judge Francis J. Quinncannon: What I'd like to know is if we're the cat, or the mouse.
Detective William Henry Blore: I know who took the dining room key!
Philip Lombard: Who?
Detective William Henry Blore: Rogers! He had the key to the dining room, fact. He unlocks the door, takes a little Indian, goes out and chops up some sticks, fact. And then...
Philip Lombard: And then he takes the chopper, and splits his own cranium, fact. I'd like to see you do that to yourself, Blore. It would take practice!
Emily Brent: If I had a butler like Rogers, I'd soon get rid of him.
Detective William Henry Blore: Nobody in the general's room, not even the general.
Dr. Edward G. Armstrong: Maybe we've been wrong, built up a nightmare out of imagination.
Judge Francis J. Quinncannon: Two people dead isn't imagination.
Judge Francis J. Quinncannon: Mr. Owen could only come to the island in one way. It's perfectly clear. Mr. Owen is one of us.
Thomas Rogers: [Responding when the others want to give him a key] Shove it... under the door, sir.
Judge Francis J. Quincannon: So you see, the whole thing has been as inevitable as in a nursery rhyme. When the boat arrives from the mainland, there will be ten dead bodies, and a riddle no one can solve on Indian Island.
Detective William Henry Blore: One thing is for certain; he ain't inside so he must be outside.
Philip Lombard: Brilliant thinking, Blore.
Vera Claythorne: I'm afraid it's no use watching for the boat. It won't come until Monday.
General Sir John Mandrake: [staring out to sea] No boat will ever come, Juliet. We're here forever. What made you love him, Juliet?
Detective William Henry Blore: [every time he's about to make some blunder] I get it!
Philip Lombard: Mr. Owen's hand is plain to see.
Judge Francis J. Quinncannon: Yes, but where the devil is Mr. Owen himself?
Dr. Edward G. Armstrong: We all build islands of imagination. Represents escape. Half of my patients are sick because they're trying to escape reality.
Judge Francis J. Quinncannon: Well, and what's your answer?
Dr. Edward G. Armstrong: Oh, I tell them fairytales. I build them islands of imagined security.
Judge Francis J. Quinncannon: Don't you believe in medicine, Doctor?
Dr. Edward G. Armstrong: Do you believe in justice, Judge?
Judge Francis J. Quinncannon: We tell the story in Ireland about the two Englishmen who were cast away on a desert island for three years and never spoke to each other, because they hadn't been introduced.
Judge Francis J. Quinncannon: The place for nursery rhymes is in the nursery.
Judge Francis J. Quincannon: Don't forget the old proverb, Doctor. Never trust a man who doesn't drink.
Detective William Henry Blore: Sounds like the Bible. Great book.
Thomas Rogers: They're saying it's me because I'm only a butler. You said I didn't have the brains to do it.
Dr. Edward G. Armstrong: I didn't vote for you, Rogers.
Thomas Rogers: Well, who did then?
Dr. Edward G. Armstrong: Who didn't drink the cocktail you just served?