Sam Lowry: Give my best to Alison and the twins.
Jack Lint: Triplets.
Sam Lowry: Triplets? My how time flies
Harry Tuttle: Bloody paperwork. Huh!
Sam Lowry: I suppose one has to expect a certain amount.
Harry Tuttle: Why? I came into this game for the action, the excitement. Go anywhere, travel light, get in, get out, wherever there's trouble, a man alone. Now they got the whole country sectioned off, you can't make a move without a form.
Mr. Helpmann: Bad sportsmanship. A ruthless minority of people seem to have forgotten good old-fashioned virtues. They just can't stand seeing the other fellow win. If these people would just play the game...
Mr. Helpmann: He's got away from us, Jack.
Jack Lint: 'Fraid you're right, Mr. Helpmann. He's gone.
Sam Lowry: I only know you got the wrong man.
Jack Lint: Information Transit got the wrong man. I got the *right* man. The wrong one was delivered to me as the right man, I accepted him on good faith as the right man. Was I wrong?
Sam Lowry: Excuse me, Dawson, can you put me through to Mr. Helpmann's office?
Dawson: I'm afraid I can't sir. You have to go through the proper channels.
Sam Lowry: And you can't tell me what the proper channels are, because that's classified information?
Dawson: I'm glad to see the Ministry's continuing its tradition of recruiting the brightest and best, sir.
Sam Lowry: Thank you, Dawson.
Mr. Warrenn: What is this mess? An empty desk is an efficient desk.
Bill - Dept. of Works: Mistakes? We don't make mistakes.
Harry Tuttle: ...well, that's a pipe of a different color.
Sam Lowry: Can you fix it?
Harry Tuttle: No, I can't. But I can bypass it with one of these.
[Holds up a bizarre device]
Santa Claus: What would you like for Christmas?
Little girl on his lap: My own credit card.
Guard: Don't fight it son. Confess quickly! If you hold out too long you could jeopardize your credit rating.
Mr. Warrenn: There you are, your own number on your very own door. And behind that door, your very own office! Welcome to the team, DZ-015
Arresting Officer: This is your receipt for your husband... and this is my receipt for your receipt.
Charlie, Department of Works: Bloody typical, they've gone back to metric without telling us.
Harry Tuttle: Listen, this old system of yours could be on fire and I couldn't even turn on the kitchen tap without filling out a 27b/6... Bloody paperwork.
Jack Lint: Until this whole thing blows over, just stay away from me.
Jack Lint: It's not my fault that Buttle's heart condition didn't appear on Tuttle's file!
Sam Lowry: My name's Lowry. Sam Lowry. I've been told to report to Mr. Warrenn.
Porter - Information Retrieval: Thirtieth floor, sir. You're expected.
Sam Lowry: Um... don't you want to search me?
Porter - Information Retrieval: No sir.
Sam Lowry: Do you want to see my ID?
Porter - Information Retrieval: No need, sir.
Sam Lowry: But I could be anybody.
Porter - Information Retrieval: No you couldn't sir. This is Information Retrieval.
Sam Lowry: Mr. Helpmann, I'm keen to get into Information Retrieval. Mr. Helpmann, I'm dying to get at this woman... no, no, no.
Sam Lowry: Yes, I always used to wonder if she wore falsies. False ears...
Sam Lowry: Sorry, I'm a bit of a stickler for paperwork. Where would we be if we didn't follow the correct procedures?
Mr. Helpmann: We're fielding all their strokes, running a lot of them out, and pretty consistently knocking them for six. I'd say they're nearly out of the game.
Mr. Helpmann: Jill? Yes... Sam I think I ought to tell you. I'm afraid she's upped stumps and retired to the pavillion. Thrown in the towel.
Mr. Helpmann: All I can say is don't fall at the last fence. The finishing post's in sight. See you in the paddock... keep your eye on the ball.
Dr. Lewis Jaffe: Just me and my little knife! Snip snip - slice slice... can you believe it?
Dr. Lewis Jaffe: Faces are a doddle compared to tits and ass. No hairline.
Spoor: All you've got to do is blow your nose and it's fixed, in't it?
Jack Lint: This is information retrieval not information dispersal.
Mrs. Terrain: There's been a little complication with my complication
Singers: [TV commercial jingle] Central Services: We do the work, you do the pleasure.
TV commercial pitchman: Hi, there. I want to talk to you about ducts.
T.V. Interviewer: How do you account for the fact that the bombing campaign has been going on for thirteen years?
Mr. Helpmann: Beginners' luck.
Telegram Girl: [dancing wildly, while singing in an absurdly high soprano] A-a-a-a-a-a-A-a-a-a-a-a-a-A-a-a-a-a-a-a-A-A! Mrs Ida Lowry requests the pleasure of your COMPANYYYY! At her APARTMENT TONIIIIGHTT! For eight thirtee-EE-ee-ee-ee-ee-ee-EE, to MIDNIGHTTT! To celebrate the completion of her recent cosmetic SURGERYYY! E-e-e-e-e-e-E-e-e-e-e-e-E! wwwWWAAAAAAIIIIIIIII!
[very long pause, Sam glances around nervously]
Sam Lowry: ummm... Thanks.
Telegram Girl: It's reply paid.
Sam Lowry: Is it?
[telegram girl nods]
Sam Lowry: oh... um... two, three,
Sam Lowry: Mother, I sorry that I am unable to come to your parrrttty...
Telegram Girl: You DON'T have to sing it!
Sam Lowry: I don't?
[Sam is arguing with his mother while Jaffe tries to perform cosmetic surgery on her]
Dr. Lewis Jaffe: Mr. Lowry, can you wait in reception? You're giving her wrinkles.
Jack Lint: [about his wife's cosmetic surgery] Remember how they used to stick out?
Sam Lowry: Oh, um yes. I always used to wonder if they were real.
Alison: My ears?
[Lime blows the dust from the keyboard, then presses a key. waits for something to happen]
Lime: [worried and somewhat frustrated] Sod it, it's broken!
Sam Lowry: You haven't switched it on.
[presses a key, the computer starts]
Lime: Oh, yes.
[looks at Sam, waiting for him to say something]
Lime: [convincingly] Look, you're putting me off, standing there. Why don't you go back to your office and I'll give you a knock when I finish?
Kurtzmann: [on Buttle] You see? The population census has got him down as "dormanted." Uh, the Central Collective Storehouse computer has got him down as "deleted."
Sam Lowry: Hang on.
[goes to a computer terminal]
Kurtzmann: Information Retrieval has got him down as "inoperative." And there's another one - security has got him down as "excised." Administration has got him down as "completed."
Sam Lowry: He's dead.
Mr. Helpmann: He's got away from us, Jack.
Jack Lint: Afraid you're right, Mr. Helpmann. He's gone.
Mr. Helpmann: Mmm.
Jack Lint: Well...
Mrs. Ida Lowry: Sam! Can't you do something about these terrorists?
Sam Lowry: It's my lunch hour. Besides, it's not my department.