Murder on the Orient Express Quotes

A.D.C.: Ah, here's your ticket, Monsieur Poirot. I'm afraid you've still got another hour.

Hercule Poirot: Then, please, do not wait.

A.D.C.: Not wait? Hah. After all you've done for us, Monsieur Poirot? Ha ha. Oh. Uh, my general's orders were to ensure your safe departure. He also wished to thank you again for saving the honour of the British garrison in Jordan. The Brigadier's, uh, confession was opportune. I say, how did you do it? Was it the old, uh, thumbscrew, you know, the rack, huh?... Oh. Well, uh, you'll be able to rest as soon as you get to Stamboul. The, uh, the Church of Santa Sophia is absolutely magnificent.

Hercule Poirot: You have seen it?

A.D.C.: No.

Beddoes: Oh, yes, sir, the Italian person.

Hercule Poirot: Eh, does he speak English?

Beddoes: A kind of English, sir. I think he learnt it in a place called Chicago.

Bianchi: You mean you saw the man? You can identify the murderer?

Mrs. Hubbard: I mean nothing of the kind. I mean there was a man in my compartment last night. It was pitch dark, of course, and my eyes were closed in terror...

Bianchi: Then how did you know it was a man?

Mrs. Hubbard: Because I've enjoyed *very warm* relations with both my husbands.

Bianchi: With your eyes closed?

Mrs. Hubbard: That helped.

Mrs. Hubbard: [to Bianchi] Don't you agree the man must've entered my compartment to gain access to Mr. Ratchett?

Princess Dragomiroff: [dismissively] I can think of no other reason, madame!

Bianchi: Forgive me, ladies and gentlemen.

Greta Ohlsson: Only God's forgiveness is important.

Countess Andrenyi: As is my custom on night trains, I took trional.

[Poirot makes a noise and looks at the doctor]

Dr. Constantine: Diethylsulphone dimethyl methane. One dilutes the white crystals with water. It is a strong hypnotic.

Countess Andrenyi: Ha, ha! He makes it sound like a poison!

Dr. Constantine: As with most sleeping drugs, if taken in sufficient quantities it IS a poison.

Count Andrenyi: [jumping up] You are not-!

Hercule Poirot: Ah, you are not *accused*... you are *ex*-cused! Thank you both for your help and cooperation.

Pierre: The whistle means that help is near, madame.

Mrs. Hubbard: And high time, too.

Hercule Poirot: Time is what counts, Mrs. Hubbard, if we are to complete this inquiry before reaching Brod. I will therefore make my questions as brief as I hope you will make your answers, and the more often you can confine yourself to a simple yes or no, the better.

Mrs. Hubbard: Well, don't waste time yammering. Begin.

Hercule Poirot: Your full name is Harriet Belinda Hubbard.

Mrs. Hubbard: Yes. I was called Harriet after my -...

Colonel Arbuthnott: Miss Debenham is not a woman!

[long pause]

Colonel Arbuthnott: She is a lady.

Hercule Poirot: Cassetti was responsible for her murder. How does that strike you?

Beddoes: I have often felt, sir, that instead of our employers requiring references from us, we should require references from them.

Hercule Poirot: Forgive me, Miss Debenham, I must be brief. You met Colonel Arbuthnott and fell in love with each other in Baghdad. Why must the English conceal even their most impeccable emotions?

Mary Debenham: To answer your observations in order: of course, yes, yes, and I don't know.

Hercule Poirot: Tout de même, I must thank the pipe-smoking Colonel Arbuthnott for a remark which finally resolved all my confusions about this, uh, this extraordinary case. I prefer to set aside the fact that he denied ever having spoken to Colonel Armstrong in India, and yet he remembered in great detail the decorations which Colonel Armstrong had won years earlier in France. I prefer to remember his views on the British jury system:

Colonel Arbuthnott: [in a brief flashback] Trial by twelve good men and true... is a sound system.

Foscarelli: Hey, what are you reading, Mister Beddoes?

Beddoes: I am reading "Love's Captive," by Mrs. Arabella Richardson.

Foscarelli: Is it about sex?

Beddoes: No, it's about 10:30, Mister Foscarelli.

Hercule Poirot: You never smile, madame la princesse?

Princess Dragomiroff: My doctor has advised against it.

Mrs. Hubbard: What's the matter with him? Train-sick or something?

Hercule Poirot: Some of us, in the words of the divine Greta Garbo, want to be alone.

Dr. Constantine: [referring to Pierre] He had the means to do it. The passkey to Ratchett's room.

Hercule Poirot: And a knife borrowed from the chef.

Bianchi: With whom he was in league.

Hercule Poirot: Which he plunged, repeatedly and without motive, into the body of his suitably astonished victim.

[first lines]

Ferry conductor: Your ticket, please.

Mary Debenham: Oh, yes.

Ferry conductor: Welcome aboard, Miss Debenham.

Mary Debenham: Thank you.

[last lines]

Countess Andrenyi: [to Mrs. Hubbard] Mama.

[the sound of a distant train whistle]

Bianchi: I fear that help is at hand. Even if it is only a working party with picks and shovels, we must make haste to complete this inquiry before we reach Brod. If it is an engine with a snowplow, our troubles will really begin.

Dr. Constantine: Who's next?

Hercule Poirot: Mrs. Hubbard.

[Bianchi reacts as if his troubles HAVE already begun]

Bianchi: Oh, my God.

Hercule Poirot: If all these people are not implicated in the crime, then why have they all told me, under interrogation, stupid and often unnecessary lies? Why? Why? Why? Why?

Dr. Constantine: Doubtless, Monsieur Poirot, because they did not expect you to be on the train. They had no time to concert their cover story.

Hercule Poirot: I was hoping someone other than myself would say that.

[after the case has been concluded, Bianchi gives Poirot a quick hug in gratitude]

Bianchi: Hercule. I thank you.

Hercule Poirot: My friend. Now I must go and wrestle with my report to the police and with my conscience.

Hercule Poirot: America's foremost tragic actress, Harriet Belinda... Miss Linda Arden.

Mrs. Hubbard: I always heard she wanted to play comedy parts, but her husband wouldn't allow it.

Hercule Poirot: Which husband? Your second husband, Mr. Hubbard, or your first husband, Mr. Greenwood?

Hercule Poirot: [referring to a monogrammed handkerchief] But I thought... the initial...

Mrs. Hubbard: H for Harriet, H for Hubbard, but it's still not mine. Mine are sensible things, not expensive Paris frills. Why, one sneeze and that has to go to the laundry!

Hercule Poirot: What is the princess's Christian name?

Hildegarde: Natalia, mein herr. It is a Russian name.

Ferry conductor: Welcome aboard, Colonel Arbyoo... Arbyoo...

Colonel Arbuthnott: Arbuthnott!

Colonel Arbuthnott: Get your hands off Miss Debenham!

Hercule Poirot: I was not aware that I was keeping my hands *on* Miss Debenham!

Mary Debenham: [observing Poirot after he sneezed] What a funny little man!

Colonel Arbuthnott: Obviously a frog.

Ratchett: [holding out a cigar] I wonder if you could oblige me with a light.

Hercule Poirot: Ah, certainly.

[he reaches into his pocket for a box of matches and hands them to Ratchett]

Ratchett: Thank you. My name is Ratchett. Do I have the pleasure of speaking to Mr. Hercule Porrot?

Hercule Poirot: The pleasure, possibly, Mister Ratchett. The intention, certainly: you asked me for a light, I offered you one, and you have not used it. One can deduce that without acute mental exhaustion.

Hercule Poirot: The obvious implication is that the murderer, disguised as a conductor, boarded the train at Belgrade, made his way by means of the convenient passkey to Ratchett's compartment, stabbed him to death, planted the dagger and the uniform, and then departed, since the train was now halted in a snowdrift. Who was he? I am inclined to agree with Mr Foscarelli, who believes that he was a rival member of the Mafia, exacting private vengeance for a vendetta whose precise nature the Yugoslav police will undoubtedly identify.

Dr. Constantine: But... is that all?

Hercule Poirot: No. No, no, no, no. No, it is not. I said, here is the simple answer. There is also a more... complex one. But remember my first solution when I... when you've heard my second.

Hercule Poirot: Signor Bianchi, it is for you, as a director of the line, to choose the solution that we shall offer to the police at Brod. Though I confess... I am in two minds. I think the police at Brod would prefer the simplicity of the first solution.We have the uniform... to show the police.

Bianchi: If we have the uniform, there must have been a man in it. So therefore, I elect the first solution.

A.D.C.: I hope we did the right thing booking you into a hotel on the European side rather than the Asian side.

A.D.C.: I have no prejudice against either continent.

A.D.C.: The crossing should be pleasant. The Bosporus is always calm.

Hercule Poirot: You have crossed by the ferry?

A.D.C.: No.

Bianchi: Oh, yes, I know. We are both envious of the husband.

Hercule Poirot: Is, eh, is the husband as British as his tweeds?

Bianchi: Oh, heaven forbid, he's a hotblooded Hungarian. If you but look at his wife, he would cease to be a diplomat.

Hercule Poirot: Thank God we are not young.

Ratchett: Sit down, sir. Sit down.

Hercule Poirot: For a moment.

Ratchett: Just for a moment. Thank you, very much. Well, Mr. Per-row...

Hercule Poirot: Poirot.

Ratchett: How's that?

Hercule Poirot: Poirot.

Ratchett: Oh, Per-row! Right.

Hercule Poirot: What is your profession?

Ratchett: I'm retired.

Hercule Poirot: From what?

Ratchett: Business.

Hercule Poirot: What sort of business?

Ratchett: Baby food.

Hercule Poirot: Forgive a Freudian question - do you love your mother?

McQueen: I did. She died when I was eight. An impressionable age. Why? Why do you ask?

Hercule Poirot: We shared a compartment on the first night of our journey. You cried out for mother twice in your sleep.

McQueen: Did I? I still dream about her. Go on, tell me! I'm emotionally retarded! Tell me that's why I never married.

Hercule Poirot: I am not here to tell you anything, Mr. McQueen. You are here to tell me.

Hercule Poirot: Was that usual?

Beddoes: Oh, quite so, yes. He - his breakfast was his Amber Moon. He never rose until it had had its full effect.

Hercule Poirot: In the Far East?

Beddoes: Oh, no sir, in Scotland.

Hercule Poirot: Oh, Scotland! Oh, forgive me. I am only an ignorant Belgian.

Beddoes: Oh, a Belgian, sir! I always thought you were French.

Hercule Poirot: Belgian. Did you know that Mr. Rachett was of Italian extraction?

Beddoes: Aw, so that accounts for his hot temper.

Hercule Poirot: How long have you been interested in religion?

Greta Ohlsson: From five years. In sommer, I had been sick, as alvays, and I sat in de grass in de garden, and I saw Yesus in the sky mit many little children. But, all the children vere brown! So, it vas a sign for me to look after little brown babies.

Hercule Poirot: Did you leave your room?

Greta Ohlsson: Nay. Not til morning - in my - bed gown.

Hercule Poirot: Is your bed gown white with red animals?

Greta Ohlsson: Nay!

Hercule Poirot: There would be little point then in asking whether this handkerchief is yours?

Countess Andrenyi: Since it contains neither of my initials, no point whatsoever, Monsieur.

Hercule Poirot: Even less point in asking the color of your dressing gown?

Countess Andrenyi: None. Unless, Monsieur takes a professional interests in apricot silk.

Hercule Poirot: I take a professional interest in crime, madame.

Hercule Poirot: What became of the younger daughter?

Princess Dragomiroff: She married a Turk! As such, we never spoke of it.

Colonel Arbuthnott: Does that answer your question?

Hercule Poirot: Well, it is certainly an answer.

Colonel Arbuthnott: May we go?

Hercule Poirot: You may with my assurance that our foreigner's lips shall be sealed.

Bianchi: Why did you not ask her if she had been to America?

Hercule Poirot: Because I did not need to.

Dr. Constantine: [touches the back of Beddoes head] Yes, there is an old contusion.

Beddoes: The result of a slight fracas in the mess, sir, with regard to the quality of the pudding, known as spotted dick.

Hercule Poirot: Thank you. I think you've been spotted too!

Colonel Arbuthnott: Are you suggesting that I'm fool enough to have entered Ratchett's cabin, murdered him, cleaned my "peep" and dropped it in the ashtray before leaving?

Hercule Poirot: No, Colonel Arbuthnott.

Mrs. Hubbard: For my daughter... and my granddaughter.

Colonel Arbuthnott: In memory of Colonel Armstrong, a great soldier... and an even greater friend.

Mary Debenham: And for Mrs. Armstrong - they took me into their home and their hearts.

Greta Ohlsson: For their Daisy, and mine. God forgive me.

Countess Andrenyi: For my... my sister and my niece.

Countess Andrenyi: Cassetti... for the grief you brought to my beloved wife.

Foscarelli: Vigliacco.

[spits]

Hildegarde: Schweinhund.

Princess Dragomiroff: For my beloved goddaughter.

McQueen: For mother Armstrong... from Hector.

Beddoes: For my gentleman.

Hardman: To Paulette, with love.

Pierre: And with mine. God rest the soul of my dear, dead daughter.