Witness for the Prosecution (1957)
Sir Wilfrid: [getting progressively more agitated] The question is whether you were lying then or are you lying now... or whether in fact you are a chronic and habitual LIAR!
Sir Wilfrid: Be prepared for hysterics and even a fainting spell. Better have smelling salts handy and a nip of brandy.
Christine Vole: I do not think that will be necessary. I never faint because I am not sure that I will fall gracefully and I never use smelling salts because they puff up the eyes. I am Christine Vole.
Leonard Vole: What are you looking for?
Christine Vole: My accordion.
Leonard Vole: [stepping on it] I think I've found it.
Christine Vole: Step on it again. It's still breathing.
Miss Plimsoll: Wilfrid the Fox! That's what they call him, and that's what he is!
Sir Wilfrid: I'd better take that thermos of cocoa with me. It helps me wash down down the pills.
Miss Plimsoll: Let me see. My learned patient is not above substituting brandy for cocoa.
[opens thermos and smells]
Miss Plimsoll: Sniff, sniff. It is cocoa. So sorry.
Sir Wilfrid: If you were a woman, Miss Plimsoll, I would strike you.
Sir Wilfrid: My Lord, may I also remind my learned friend that his witness, by her own admission, has already violated so many oaths that I am surprised the Testament did not LEAP FROM HER HAND when she was sworn here today! I doubt if anything is to be gained by questioning you any further! That will be all, Frau Helm!
Sir Wilfrid: [Leonard Vole has been acquitted] We've disposed of the gallows, but there's still that banana peel somewhere.
Brogan-Moore: Touching isn't it? The way he counts on his wife.
Sir Wilfrid: Yes, like a drowning man clutching at a razor blade.
Janet Mackensie: Perhaps you can help me, your Lordship. Six months, I have applied for my hearing aid and I am still waiting for it.
Judge: My dear madame. Considering the rubbish that is being talked nowadays, you are missing very little.
Leonard Vole: But this is England, where I thought you never arrest, let alone convict, people for crimes they have not committed.
Sir Wilfrid: We try not to make a habit of it.
Miss Plimsoll: Teeny weeny flight of steps, Sir Wilfrid, we mustn't forget we've had a teeny weeny heart attack.
Leonard Vole: [in Christine's bombed-out hovel] It's horrible! In a gemutlich sort of way.
Mr. Myers: I hope we are not to be deprived of the learned and stimulating company of Sir Wilfrid?
Sir Wilfrid: I am constantly surprised that women's hats do not provoke more murders.
Miss Plimsoll: Shall we roll up the window, Sir Wilfrid?
Sir Wilfrid: Just roll up your mouth, you talk too much. If I'd known how much you talk I'd never have come out of my coma. This thing weighs a ton.
[He tosses toward Plimsoll a robe he is under during the trip from hospital to home]
Sir Wilfrid: Kings, prime ministers, archbishops, even barristers have stood in the dock.
Christine Vole: [as the Cockney Woman] I'll give ya somethin' to dream about, Mister. *Wanna kiss me, ducky?*
Miss Plimsoll: [hands Sir Wilfrid his thermos bottle] Sir Wilfrid, you've forgotten your brandy!
[Miss Plimsoll discovers cigars hidden in Sir Wilfrid's cane]
Sir Wilfrid: You could be jailed for that. You had no search warrant for my cane!
Christine Vole: It isn't even my letter paper! I write my letters on small, blue paper with my initials on it?
Sir Wilfrid: Like these?
[pulling out a sheaf of letters on blue paper]
Christine Vole: Damn you! Damn you! Let me go! Let me get out of here!