The Russia House Quotes
An expatriate British publisher unexpectedly finds himself working for British intelligence to investigate people in Russia.
CIA Interrogator: Have you ever met any jazz musicians you would describe, or who would describe themselves, as anarchists?
Bartholomew "Barley" Scott Blair: Hmmm... ah, there was a trombone player, Wilfred Baker.
[the interrogator starts writing]
Bartholomew "Barley" Scott Blair: He's the only jazz musician I can think of who is completely devoid of anarchist tendencies.
Bartholomew "Barley" Scott Blair: Hmmm... ah, there was a trombone player, Wilfred Baker.
[the interrogator starts writing]
Bartholomew "Barley" Scott Blair: He's the only jazz musician I can think of who is completely devoid of anarchist tendencies.
Russell: [on the phone with Ned] I've heard the tapes and I've never so much pussy-footing around in my life! Barley needs to tell Katya, 'No more Greta fucking Garbo!' And Dante better shit or get off the pot! We're being pelted with crap on the streets over here!
Ned: Alright, Russell, message understood.
[Hangs up and calls someone over]
Ned: Russell's metaphors are becoming rather scatological.
Ned: Alright, Russell, message understood.
[Hangs up and calls someone over]
Ned: Russell's metaphors are becoming rather scatological.
[talking about Western relations with Russia]
Barley: Aren't we supposed to be such good friends now?
Ned: [sarcastically] Oh, my dear lord...
Walter: Because this year it suits them to roll over on their backs and play nice doggie? Because this year they're on the floor anyway? You ninny! All the more reason to spy the living daylights out of them. Kick them in the balls every time they get to their knees.
Barley: Aren't we supposed to be such good friends now?
Ned: [sarcastically] Oh, my dear lord...
Walter: Because this year it suits them to roll over on their backs and play nice doggie? Because this year they're on the floor anyway? You ninny! All the more reason to spy the living daylights out of them. Kick them in the balls every time they get to their knees.
Clive: Do you believe this nonsense?
Bartholomew "Barley" Scott Blair: I don't know. I believe it when I say it. But you've got to be there: you're taking a leak in some filthy public urinal and the man in the next stall leans across and asks you about God or Kafka or freedom versus responsibility; so you tell him because you know, because you're from the West. And before you've finished shaking your dick you think:"What a great country!" That's why I love them... and they're very fond of me.
Bartholomew "Barley" Scott Blair: I don't know. I believe it when I say it. But you've got to be there: you're taking a leak in some filthy public urinal and the man in the next stall leans across and asks you about God or Kafka or freedom versus responsibility; so you tell him because you know, because you're from the West. And before you've finished shaking your dick you think:"What a great country!" That's why I love them... and they're very fond of me.
Russell: Mr. Blair, we are buying a Picasso, ok? You don't mind an occasional metaphor now and then, do you?
Bartholomew "Barley" Scott Blair: Not at all.
Russell: Good. Some people don't like my metaphors; I don't know why, but... Anyway, everyone in this room is buying the same Picasso. It's very rare... medium rare... well done, what the fuck! The bottom line question is: did Picasso paint it? And you're the man who is selling it to us?
Bartholomew "Barley" Scott Blair: It is not my Picasso, Russell, it is not my Picasso. And I'm not saying it is a Picasso. And, furthermore, I'm not selling it to you. And, lastly, I don't give a fuck whether you buy it or not.
Bartholomew "Barley" Scott Blair: Not at all.
Russell: Good. Some people don't like my metaphors; I don't know why, but... Anyway, everyone in this room is buying the same Picasso. It's very rare... medium rare... well done, what the fuck! The bottom line question is: did Picasso paint it? And you're the man who is selling it to us?
Bartholomew "Barley" Scott Blair: It is not my Picasso, Russell, it is not my Picasso. And I'm not saying it is a Picasso. And, furthermore, I'm not selling it to you. And, lastly, I don't give a fuck whether you buy it or not.
Russell: The trouble is, a lot of very favorite sons are in danger of having their rice bowls broken, all on account of these goddamn notebooks. The Soviet military effort is stalled, the American military effort is stalled. These notebooks say their rocket motors suck instead of blow, they can't do solid fuel for shit...
[Russell produces a stack of reports on the analysis of Dante's material]
Clive: And is there a conclusion?
Russell: Clive, there is a conclusion: drop it down the toilet.
Ned: And is that what you think, Russell?
Russell: Well, expert opinion has that this notebook was written very quickly... or very slowly. By a man, or a woman. The writer was right-handed, or he was left-handed. What I think? For "experts," there's no toilet deep enough.
Clive: And is there a conclusion?
Russell: Clive, there is a conclusion: drop it down the toilet.
Ned: And is that what you think, Russell?
Russell: Well, expert opinion has that this notebook was written very quickly... or very slowly. By a man, or a woman. The writer was right-handed, or he was left-handed. What I think? For "experts," there's no toilet deep enough.
