Markov: Life is as brief as a butterfly's fart, but death is something that you have forever. From now on, you will march until you drop, and when you have dropped, you will crawl. Some may consider that I am excessively cruel, but there is a reason for this cruelty: I enjoy it!
Digby Geste: We were identical twins, but somehow Beau was much more identical than me.
Dr. Crippen: I bear both good tidings and bad tidings. First, your wife is dead.
Sir Hector: And the bad tidings?
Markov: I have reason to believe it is secreted about his person.
Boldini: It's not in his pockets; I have picked them.
Markov: In that case, you will have to pick his person.
[Facing a firing squad]
Digby Geste: You expect me to talk when all I could preserve is my own measly, worthless life? TOO BLOODY RIGHT, I'LL TALK! I'll talk, I'll talk, just try and stop me!
[bidding farewell to departing soldiers]
General Pecheur: May God go with you. *I* have better things to do.
[12 year-old Beau and Digby discussing a Viking Funeral]
12 year-old Beau: Digby, will you set fire to me and bury me at sea?
12 year-old Beau: Well, alright. But not until you're dead.
Beau Geste (age 12): A Viking funeral... Digby, will you set fire to me and bury me at sea?
Digby Geste (age 12): Well, alright... but not until you're dead.
Beau Geste: Medals are like hemorrhoids, Dig. Sooner or later every asshole gets one.