Carol Fisher: This is Scott ffolliott, newspaperman same as you. Foreign correspondent. Mr. Haverstock, Mr. ffolliott.

Scott ffolliott: With a double 'F'.

John Jones: How do you do?

Scott ffolliott: How do you do?

John Jones: I don't get the double 'F'.

Scott ffolliott: They're at the beginning. Both small 'F's

John Jones: They can't be at the beginning.

Scott ffolliott: One of my ancestors was beheaded by Henry VIII. His wife dropped the capital letter to commemorate it. There it is.

John Jones: How do you say it, like a stutter?

Scott ffolliott: No, just a straight 'fuh'.

John Jones: I'm in love with you, and I want to marry you.

Carol Fisher: I'm in love with you, and I want to marry you.

John Jones: Hmm... that cuts down our love scene quite a bit, doesn't it?

[last lines]

[radio broadcast from London]

John Jones: Hello, America. I've been watching a part of the world being blown to pieces. A part of the world as nice as Vermont, and Ohio

[siren sounds]

John Jones: , and Virginia, and California, and Illinois lies ripped up and bleeding like a steer in a slaughterhouse, and I've seen things that make the history of the savages read like Pollyanna legends. I've seen women...

[bombs begin exploding]

English Announcer: It's a raid; we shall have to postpone the broadcast.

John Jones: Oh, postpone, nothing! Let's go on as long as we can.

English Announcer: Madam, we have a shelter downstairs.

John Jones: How about it, Carol?

Carol Fisher: They're listening in America, Johnny.

John Jones: Okay, we'll tell 'em, then. I can't read the rest of the speech I had, because the lights have gone out, so I'll just have to talk off the cuff. All that noise you hear isn't static - it's death, coming to London. Yes, they're coming here now. You can hear the bombs falling on the streets and the homes. Don't tune me out, hang on a while - this is a big story, and you're part of it. It's too late to do anything here now except stand in the dark and let them come... as if the lights were all out everywhere, except in America. Keep those lights burning, cover them with steel, ring them with guns, build a canopy of battleships and bombing planes around them. Hello, America, hang on to your lights: they're the only lights left in the world!

John Jones: I'm in love with a girl, and I'm going to help hang her father.

Stebbins: Oh, Miss, please... A Scotch and soda, and a glass of milk.

John Jones: A glass of milk?

Stebbins: Yeah, I'm on the wagon. I went to the doctor today to see about these jitters I got, and he said it was the wagon for a month, or a whole new set of organs. I can't afford a whole new set of organs.

John Jones: Well, if I'd known you were on the wagon, I could've got along all right without this, but as long as it's here...


John Jones: Good luck!

Stebbins: [watches him drink] Good?

John Jones: Yes, it's just like any other Scotch and soda.

Stebbins: [morosely] That's what I thought.

[sips milk]

Stebbins: Doesn't taste the same as when I was a baby...

Scott ffolliott: Ring Mayfair 24574...

Stebbins: [gets out notebook] Let me write that...

Scott ffolliott: Mayfair 24574. That's my cousin. He's the director of the airline. Tell him we need two seats on tomorrow's clipper for America. Then go to Hilton Nursing Home and stick by Van Meer. Then phone Miss Edith Armbruster, Kensington 66255. Tell her I'm off to America. Will she dine with me next Monday instead of tomorrow?

Stebbins: Sure.

Scott ffolliott: Then call up Stevens at The Post, tell him I'm off to America.

John Jones: Cable New York, tell them I'm off to America!

Scott ffolliott: [as they run off] Ring up Crescent Dancing Academy and cancel my rhumba lesson!

Stebbins: [reads it back to himself] Two ham sandwiches on rye.

John Jones: If you knew how much I love you, you'd faint.

Stebbins: They love to cable from New York. It makes them think that you're working for them.

Van Meer: I see now. There's no help. No help for the whole poor suffering world. Oh! You cry peace, Fisher. Peace. And there was no peace. Only war and death. You're... You're a liar, Fisher. A cruel, cruel liar. You can do what you want with me. That's not important. But you'll never conquer them, Fisher. Little people everywhere who give crumbs to birds. Lie to them, drive them, whip them, force them into war. When the beasts like you will devour each other, then the world will belong to the little people.

John Jones: I came 4,000 miles to get a story. I get shot at like a duck in a shooting gallery, I get pushed off buildings, I *get* the story, and then I've got to shut up!

Mr. Powers: Foreign correspondent! I could get more news out of Europe looking in a crystal ball.

Scott ffolliott: [entering a room full of spies] Pardon me gentlemen, I represent the Jupiter Life Assurance, could I interest you in a small policy?

[a gun, and the woman holding it on him, follow]

Mr. Krug: [angrily] Why did you bring him up here?

[taking gun and giving it to another confederate to point at ffolliott]

Female Conspirator: I didn't know what to do, he tried to pass by!

Scott ffolliott: I would gladly relieve the young lady of this embarrassment, but you know how women are with firearms, they have no sense of timing. Now look, I'll just sit here and you carry on with whatever you were doing. Don't mind me, I sometimes sit like this for hours.

Scott ffolliott: Who has he shot?

John Jones: Van Meer assassinated.

Scott ffolliott: Dead?

John Jones: Looked like it.

Scott ffolliott: Bad show.

John Jones: Couldn't be much worse from his point of view.

Captain John Mark: Mr. Haverstock, I want a talk with you.

John Jones: Yes sir?

Captain John Mark: I just found out you're a newspaperman.

John Jones: I guess that's right.

Captain John Mark: Oh, it is, eh? Why didn't you tell me that when I questioned you? You lied to me, sir!

John Jones: My dear captain, when you've been shot down in a British plane by a German destroyer, 300 miles off the coast of England, latitude 45, and have been hanging on to a half-submerged wing for hours, waiting to drown, with half a dozen other stricken human beings, you're liable to forget you're a newspaperman for a moment or two!

Carol Fisher: You never hear of circumstances out of our control rushing us into peace, have you?

Mr. Powers: How would you like to cover the biggest story in the world today?

John Jones: Give me and expense account and I'll cover anything.

Mr. Powers: I'll give you an expense account.

John Jones: Okay, What's the story?

Mr. Powers: Europe.

John Jones: Well, I'm afraid I'm not exactly equipped, sir, but I can do some reading up.

Mr. Powers: No no, no reading up. I like you just as you are, Mr. Jones. What Europe needs is a fresh, unused mind.

John Jones: Foreign correspondent, huh?

Mr. Powers: No, reporter. I don't want correspondence, I want news.

John Jones: [Powers is giving Jones instructions on whom he should interview in Europe] Anyone else?

Mr. Powers: No.

John Jones: Well how about Hitler? Don't you think it would be a good idea to pump him? He must have something on his mind.

Mr. Powers: I don't want any more economists, sages, or oracles bombinating over our cables. I want a reporter. Somebody who doesn't know the difference between an ism and a kangaroo.

Stephen Fisher: It's really very exciting being present at the christening of an American newspaper correspondent. Shouldn't we break a bottle of champagne or something?

Mr. Powers: Wait a minute! I've got something that might pass for an idea.

John Jones: Look, I'm in love with you. I can't hit you over the head with a scandal as a wedding present.

Carol Fisher: I think the world has been run long enough by well-meaning professionals. We might give the amateurs a chance now.

Fake Dutch Detective: We simply want you to come with us if you will and tell your story to our chief of police here.

John Jones: Well, let me get this straight. Does this chief of police speak English? Because I'm a very busy man.

Fake Dutch Detective: It will take no more than half an hour, Sir. We all speak English.

John Jones: All speak English? Well, that's marvelous. That's more than I can say for my country.

John Jones: They'll stick to me like a couple of tattoo marks.

Van Meer: You cried, "Peace," Fisher - "peace" - and there was no peace - only war - and death!

Carol Fisher: [to Johnny Jones; about her father] My father fought hard for his country. His way wasn't the straight way, but it was the hard way. And I shall fight for my country the hard way.

Stephen Fisher: I have fought for my country, in my heart, in a very difficult way; because, sometimes it is harder to fight dishonourably than nobly in the open.