"Tommy Nettle (on France): No-one speaks the fucking lingo out here. You can't say, "Pass the biscuit", or "Where's me 'and grenade?"; they just shrug. 'Cause they hate us too. I mean, that's the point: we fight in France and the French fuckin' 'ate us! Make me 'Ome Secretary and I'll sort this out in a fuckin' minute. We got India and Africa, right? Jerry can have France and Belgium and whatever else they want. 'Oo's fuckin' ever been to Poland? It's all about room, empire! They want more empire; give 'em this shit hole, we keep ours, and it's Bob's your uncle and Fanny's your fucking aunt! Think about it."

"[to Briony] Five years ago you didn’t care about telling the truth. You- all your family, you just assumed that for all my education, I was still little better than a servant, still not to be trusted!. Thanks to you, they were able to close ranks and throw me to the fucking wolves!."

"[to Briony] How old do you have to be before you know the difference between right and wrong? What are you, eighteen? Do you have to be eighteen before you bring yourself to own up to a lie? There are...soldiers of eighteen old enough to be left to die on the side of the road! Did you know that!?"

"[to Briony] I’ll be quite honest with you. I’m torn between breaking your neck here and taking you and throwing you down the stairs."

"[In a letter] Dearest Cecilia, the story can resume. The one I had been planning on that evening walk. I can become again the man who once crossed the Surrey park at dusk, in my best suit, swaggering on the promise of life. The man who, with the clarity of passion, made love to you in the library. The story can resume. I will return. Find you, love you, marry you and live without shame."

"[To Robbie] Come back, come back to me."

"[In a letter] My darling, Briony found my address somehow and sent a letter. The first surprise was she didn't go up to Cambridge. She's doing nurses' training at my old hospital. I think she may be doing this as some kind of penance.She says she's beginning to get the full grasp of what she did and what it meant. She wants to come and talk to me. I love you. I'll wait for you. Come back. Come back to me."

"My doctor tells me I have something called vascular dementia; which is essentially a continuous series of tiny strokes. Your brain gradually closes down. You lose words, you lose your memory: which, for a writer, is pretty much the point. That’s why I could finally write this book; and why, of course, it’s my last novel. Strangely enough, it would be just as accurate to call it my first novel. I wrote several drafts as far back as my time at St. Thomas’s Hospital during the war. I just couldn’t ever find the way to do it."

"[writing] The princess was well aware of his remorseless wickedness. But that made it no easier to overcome the voluminous love she felt in her heart for Sir Romulus. The princess knew instinctively that the one with red hair was not to be trusted. As his young ward dived again and again into the depths of the lake, in search of the enchanted chalice, Sir Romulus twirled his luxuriant mustache. Sir Romulus rode with his two companions, northwards, drawing ever closer to an effulgent sea. So heroic in manner, he appeared so valiant in word... And no could ever guess at the darkness lurking in the black heart of Sir Romulus Turnbull. He was the most dangerous man in the world."

"I am very, very sorry for the terrible distress that I have caused you. I am very, very sorry..."

"[in a letter] Dear Cecilia, Please don't throw this away without reading it. As you'll have seen from the notepaper, I'm here at St. Thomas's, doing my nurses' training. I decided not to take up my place at Cambridge. I decided I wanted to make myself useful, do something practical. But no matter how hard I work, no matter how long the hours, I can't escape from what I did and what it meant, the full extent of which I'm only now beginning to grasp. Cee, please write and tell me we can meet. Your sister, Briony."

"Love is all very well, but you have to be sensible."

"If you write a story, you only have to say the word ‘castle’ and you can see the towers and the woods and the village below... But in a play it’s... it all depends on other people."

"What do you think it would feel like to be someone else?"

"Marion Cotillard - Fanny Chenal"

"Giannina Facio - Maitre D'"

"Daniel Mays - Bert, the doorman"

"Kenneth Cranham - Sir Nigel"

"Archie Panjabi - Gemma"

"Richard Coyle - Amis"

"Rafe Spall - Kenny"

"Tom Hollander - Charlie Willis"

"Freddie Highmore - Young Max Skinner"

"Isabelle Candelier - Ludivine Duflot"

"Didier Bourdon - Francis Duflot"

"Abbie Cornish - Christie Roberts"

"MacDonalds is in Avignon, fish and chips in Marseille. Allez."

"Kenny, I want the 10 year yield, I want the figures for the Andserson account and I want you to get your scrawny little backside out of my chair. Thank you."

"I'll give you a tip Bert. Never pat a burning dog."

"Real men don't play bridge."

"'Fraid so - be in touch."

"The only thing right about your intelligence is that its all wrong. But you were always at the back of the Conga line."

"Admit it, Love, this is because I wouldn't shag you at the Christmas Party, isn't it?"

"Oh Henry, Bloody Hell."

"Boss, why do you keep calling me 'ALF?' Because, as you're an aggressive little f*ck. As your boss and genetic superior, I can call you anything I want."

"Pardon my lips. They find joy in the most unusual places."

"Well done. Proves the adage that wisdom can be found in the most unlikely places."

"[on the book "Death in Venice"] Given the title, I don't think you'll be surprised by the ending."