“Evelyn Waugh: How do you get your main pleasure in life, Sir William?Sir William Beveridge: I get mine trying to leave the world a better place than I found it.Waugh: I get mine spreading alarm and despondency and I get more satisfaction than you do.”

“Because it's much more pleasant to be obsessed over how the hero gets out of his predicament than it is over how I get out of mine.”

“Five minutes.” He set the alarm. “Ready?” “Yes, sir.” “You’re trying to get me to fuck you by calling me ‘sir,’ aren’t you? It will work. But not yet.”

“I can't do nothing. Just put it off. And that don't do no good. I reckon it belong to me. I reckon what I going to get ain't no more than mine.”

“How can you protect yourself by carrying a sword if you don’t know how to use it?’Not me, sir. Other people. They see the sword and don’t attack me,’ said Maladict patiently.Yes, but if they did, lad, you wouldn’t be any good with it,’ said the sergeant.No, sir. I’d probably settle for just ripping their heads off, sir. That’s what I mean by protection, sir. Theirs, not mine. And I’d get hell from the League if I did that, sir.”

“Death: "THERE ARE BETTER THINGS IN THE WORLD THAN ALCOHOL, ALBERT."Albert: "Oh, yes, sir. But alcohol sort of compensates for not getting them.”