Stanley Moon: You're a nutcase! You're a bleedin' nutcase!

George Spiggott: They said the same of Jesus Christ, Freud, and Galileo.

Stanley Moon: They said it of a lot of nutcases too.

George Spiggott: You're not as stupid as you look, are you, Mr. Moon?

George Spiggott: You fill me with inertia.

George Spiggott: You realize that suicide's a criminal offense. In less enlightened times they'd have hung you for it.

George Spiggott: There was a time when I used to get lots of ideas... I thought up the Seven Deadly Sins in one afternoon. The only thing I've come up with recently is advertising.

George Spiggott: Everything I've ever told you has been a lie. Including that.

Stanley Moon: Including what?

George Spiggott: That everything I've ever told has been a lie. That's not true.

Stanley Moon: I don't know WHAT to believe.

George Spiggott: Not me, Stanley, believe me!

[last lines]

George Spiggott: [to God] All right, you great git, you've asked for it. I'll cover the world in Tastee-Freez and Wimpy Burgers. I'll fill it with concrete runways, motorways, aircraft, television, automobiles, advertising, plastic flowers, frozen food and supersonic bangs. I'll make it so noisy and disgusting that even you'll be ashamed of yourself! No wonder you've so few friends; you're unbelievable!

[God laughs]

Stanley Moon: [after having been transformed into a nun] I love you, Margaret.

Margaret Spencer: And I love you, Sister Luna.

George Spiggott: In the words of Marcel Proust - and this applies to any woman in the world: If you can stay up and listen with a fair degree of attention to whatever garbage, no matter how stupid it is, that they're coming out with, 'til ten minutes past four in the morning... you're in.

George Spiggott: [having gotten Stanley's attention by mentioning a million pounds] Your great-great-great grandfather, Ephraim Moon, sailed to Australia in 1782 on a ship of the Line. Set himself up as an apothecary. The business flourished, and by the time he died it was worth something in the region of 2,000 pounds - a large amount in those days.

Stanley Moon: Yes...

George Spiggott: Your great-great-grandfather, Cedric Moon, by skillful management and careful husbandry, increased that sum a hundredfold. This in turn was inherited by your great-grandfather, Desmond Moon, who expanded, diversified, and built up a personal fortune of well over a million pounds!

Stanley Moon: Oh!... it's a lot of money!

George Spiggott: A great deal of money, Mister Moon! And this gigantic sum was inherited by your grandfather, Hubert Moon, who returned to London and frittered it away on wine, women, and loose living.

Stanley Moon: ...ermh... where does that leave me, then?

George Spiggott: Penniless, and on the brink of suicide!

[giggles]

George Spiggott: What terrible sins I have working for me. I suppose it's the wages.

Stanley Moon: [reading Faustian contract] "I, Stanley Moon, hereinafter and in the hereafter to be known as 'The Damned' - " The damned?

Stanley Moon: Well, I suppose Lust and Gluttony really have to be rather near the bathroom.

George Spiggott: It's the standard contract. Gives you seven wishes in accordance with the mystic rules of life. Seven Days of the Week, Seven Deadly Sins, Seven Seas, Seven Brides for Seven Brothers...

George Spiggott: Job was what you'd technically describe as a loony.

George Spiggott: And the magic word: Julie Andrews!

George Spiggott: Good evening. I couldn't help noticing that you were making an unsuccessful suicide bid.

Stanley Moon: I thought you were called Lucifer.

George Spiggott: I know. "The Bringer of the Light" it used to be. Sounded a bit poofy to me.

Stanley Moon: [regarding his contract] Shouldn't I sign it in blood?

George Spiggott: Blimey, you are a traditionalist.

George Spiggott: Fornication is such a puny sin. If Margaret had come in and told you she'd murdered the gardener, you would forgiven her, shielded her from the police. Just because she wants to have some harmless fun with some young man, you want to strangle her.

[reading Stanley's suicide note]

Margaret Spencer: "Dear Miss Spencer, This is just to say cheerio. Yours Sincerely, Stanley Moon. P.S.: I leave you my collection of moths."

George Spiggott: Don't let me interfere with your doing away with yourself.

George Spiggott: I'm the Horned One. The Devil. Let me give you my card.

[Searching for change]

George Spiggott: Oh, um, have you got sixpence? I've only got a million-pound note.

George Spiggott: You're not wearing nylon underwear, are you? It disintegrates at high speeds.

George Spiggott: This is the club room. Quite nicely decorated and painted - early Hitler.

George Spiggott: You see, a soul's rather like your appendix: totally expendable.

George Spiggott: The garden of Eden was a boggy swamp just south of Croydon. You can see it over there.

George Spiggott: [to Lust] Pick your clothes up. You're due down at the Foreign Office.

George Spiggott: Just putting a tiny little ventilation hole in this oil tanker.

George Spiggott: Most of the saints throughout history have been a pain in the neck.

George Spiggott: Tell God not to go away. I'll be back in a minute.

George Spiggott: [cutting into a telephone line] Mrs. Fitch?

Mrs. Fitch: Speaking.

George Spiggott: Abercrombie here. I work with your husband.

Mrs. Fitch: Oh, yes.

George Spiggott: I thought you'd like to know that he's just checked into the Cheeseborough Hotel Brighton with his secretary Fiona. Good-bye.

Stanley Moon: Here, my ice lolly's melted. You really must be the Devil.

George Spiggott: Incarnate. How d'you do?

George Spiggott: We've been hit very badly by this peace scare.

Insp. Reg Clarke: Can you remember your exact last words to him?

Margaret Spencer: I think it was "Wimpy Burgers twice, 1 MR, 1 well, heavy on the onions".

Stanley Moon: Apart from the way He moves, what's God really like? I mean, what colour is He?

George Spiggott: He's all colours of the rainbow, many-hued.

Stanley Moon: But He is English, isn't He?

George Spiggott: Oh yes. Very upper class.

Stanley Moon: You painted a beautiful dream and shoved me into a nightmare.

George Spiggott: [to God] I've done a good deed. I gave that little twit his soul back. Wasn't that generous?

George Spiggott: Very well, Mister Moon! In order to prove that I am indeed the Unholy One, a Frobisher & Gleason raspberry-flavored ice lolly shall be yours - in a trice!

Lilian Lust: Can you hear my pores breathe?

Lilian Lust: Hot toast - or buttered buns?

George Spiggott: All we need to do now, then, is get it witnessed. Sloth would be best. He's a lawyer.

George Spiggott: Now, then, what'd you like to be first? Prime Minister? Oh, no, I've made that deal already.

George Spiggott: You're quite safe. It's only a 300-foot drop.

Lilian Lust: [to Stanley Moon] Will you help me with my buttons? I seem to be all thumbs this morning!

Stanley Moon: [after George Spigott tells him who he is] I know... you've escaped from somewhere!

George Spiggott: But suicide, Mr. Moon... Really, really, really. That's the last thing you should do. Don't you think it's taking the easy way out?

Stanley Moon: Huh! Easy way out? What's easy about it? Look, the bleeding pipe's broken! Can't even manage to kill myself!

George Spiggott: Like you collect moths, I collect souls.

Margaret Spencer: Who's George?

Stanley Moon: He's the Devil. He's not so bad once you get to know his problems.

Stanley Moon: You're an angel, George.

George Spiggott: Here's hoping.