Nighy did a good job on Will Ye Go Lassie Go:
Oh, the summertime is comin',
And the trees are sweetly blooming,
Where the wild mountain thyme
Grows around the blooming heather

CHORUS (Will ye go, lassie, will ye go?
And we'll all go together to pick wild mountain thyme
All around the blooming heather.
Will ye go, lassie, will ye go?)

I will build my love a bower
By yon pure crystal fountain
And around it I will place
All the flowers of the mountain.

CHORUS

If my true love e'er should leave me
I would surely find another
Where the wild mountain thyme
Grows around the blooming heather.

CHORUS

Oh, the autumn-time is comin',
And the leaves are gently falling,
Where the wild mountain thyme
Grows around the blooming heather

CHORUS

My Johnnie:

Tell me one thing. In another time, another place, could it have been me?
- Perhaps, but you're talking about a world without Johnnie. And that's not a world I'd care to live in.
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Have you ever looked at something and known you want it, want it more than anything you've ever wanted in your life before, and known that it can never be yours? I have, and I tell you, it'll either finish you or put a fire in your belly that'll keep burning to the end of your days. I wasn't there at the beginning of the story, but you can bet your bottom dollar I'm not leaving before the end. Because I know now that it has to be the right sort of ending. The sort of ending that's worth fighting for.
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I'm not concerned about how many lines I have. I'd rather have four honest words - than 50 pages of bilge.

The work's good, Mrs. Cole. None of them could have done any better. You're mustard these days.
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Lyrics to closing song:
I'm not afraid of the dark
Are you? (Are you?) Are you? (Are you?)
Gee, but it's nice in the dark
With the moon and you

(Chorus)
When we go strolling in the park at night
The darkness is a boon
Who cares if we're without a light?
They can't black out the moon

I see you smiling in the cigarette glow
But the picture fades too soon
But I see all I want to know
They can't black out the moon

We don't grumble
We don't worry about alarms
But when you stumble
You stumble right into my arms

And when you kiss me, don't you realize
That my heart's like a big balloon?
And like a love light in your eyes
They can't black out the moon

A million bullets for dispatch by the morning? But, I tell you, the girls have done ten hours today already. Yes, I realize how urgent it is. But you can't expect these girls to work 14 hours a stretch.
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Why do you think that people like films? It's because stories are structured; have a shape, a purpose, a meaning; and when things gone bad they're still a part of a plan; there's a point to them. Unlike life.
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Film, Mrs Cole. Real life with the boring bits cut out. Don't confuse facts with truth, and, for Christ's sake, don't let either of them get in the way of the story.
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"American picture-goers like to be knocked off their feet. Bangs, crashes, ambulances careening around corners. The same goes for romance. What you call understatement translates as a lack of oomph."

You and me, given opportunities only because young men are gone. Or dying-
But to turn our back on those opportunities, even when one has suffered such great loss, wouldn't that be giving death dominion over life?
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What in the... What is that?
-It's France, Uncle Frank. Dunkirk.
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He is an actor. Unless you have reviewed him, had intercourse with him, or done both simultaneously, he won't remember you.
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The actor was ruining the script.
-Course he was. He's an actor.
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I am perfectly calm. What you are seeing is controlled anger tempered with icy detachment. It's one of the many subtle emotions of which a good actor is capable.
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I am an actor, a somewhat derided calling, but mine nonetheless. Perhaps because we are engaged in an imitation of life, there is a common misconception that anything living can do what we do. You have found that not to be so, for which I offer my, urn, sincerest commiserations.