Agatha Christie's Marple

Agnes Crackenthorpe:
Love is all that matters. Love, not money.

Harold Crackenthorpe:
I may be disgusting, Inspector, but I'm not a murderer.

Miss Jane Marple:
Would you mind strangling me, Elspeth?

Mrs. Elspeth McGillicuddy:
Not at all, Jane.

Agnes Crackenthorpe:
If I'm asleep when they come, tell them from us: it's only love that matters.

Emma Crackenthorpe:
It's only love that matters.

Mrs. Elspeth McGillicuddy:
[on the phone] I'm catching the 4:50 from Paddington.

Mrs. Elspeth McGillicuddy:
I've just seen a murder!

Miss Jane Marple:
It's railway information not police information, when you think about it. And we all own the railways, now don't we?

Miss Jane Marple:
I want you to find a body!

Cedric Crackenthorpe:
Oh, don't be so pompous, Harold!

Miss Jane Marple:
I'm an old friend from childhood days. His, not mine.

Mrs. Elspeth McGillicuddy:
You brute! Oh yes, that is the man I saw from the 4:50 from Paddington, on December the fourth, strangling a poor terrified woman to death.

Alfred Crackenthorpe:
I'm getting my hands on a nice little bit of cash soon.

Alfred Crackenthorpe:
Where did you find this?

James Strickland-West:
Stuck in the holly bush.

Alfred Crackenthorpe:
Help me, Doctor Quimper! Help me, Doctor Quimper! Help!

Dr. David Quimper:
That's Alfred.

Miss Jane Marple:
But I'm not always right.

Dora Bunner:
Like when you put a hedgehog in Mitzi's bed.

Patrick Simmons:
I was only trying to cheer her up.

Mitzi Kosinski:
Like this morning, you try to cheer me up when you tell me I can't boil an egg.

Patrick Simmons:
I don't think Phillipa would try and be funny. She hasn't smiled since Goebbels poisoned his children.

Lizzie Hinchcliffe:
[referring to advertisement] A what?

Amy Murgatroyd:
A marriage!

Lizzie Hinchcliffe:
[looks at newspaper] A murder.

Amy Murgatroyd:
A murder! And it's today, this is even more exciting.

Amy Murgatroyd:
What do you think it means?

Lizzie Hinchcliffe:
It means going round to Letitia Blacklock's and having bad sherry - that's what it means - and then having to pretend to murder one of the neighbours.

Amy Murgatroyd:
And will the lights suddenly go out?

Lizzie Hinchcliffe:
Well, that's usually the form.

Amy Murgatroyd:
And will there be screaming?

Lizzie Hinchcliffe:
Well, if you've got anything to do with it, yes, I expect so.

Lizzie Hinchcliffe:
Colonel Easterbrook! You really should drink more often!

Inspector Larry Bird:
[during questioning] But the real reason for your stay is to design hats?

Mutti:
Ja. In Berlin now, there is no hat industry. But then, in Berlin now, there is no hats. And no industry.

Miss Marple:
Who sends a written death threat? Surely not someone who truly intends to kill the recepient. It's common sense not to warn them.

Tommy Beresford:
[Tuppence asks Tommy to drive so she can continue reading her copy of Macbeth. Tommy chuckles in response] I was in Macbeth at my prep school. "Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day."

Tuppence Beresford:
[gets in car on passenger side] I heard you were marvelous.

Tommy Beresford:
Who from?

Tuppence Beresford:
You.

Tommy Beresford:
Hmm. [gets in car and starts engine] "By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes."

Septimus Bligh:
Why do you drink?

Tuppence Beresford:
Why do you?

Septimus Bligh:
[Bitterly] Because life is empty of meaning.

[first lines]

Pete Hayman:
Mike, it's rubbish! Come look at this!

Pete Hayman:
Hey, Mike.

Mike Rogers:
What?

Pete Hayman:
I'll race you.

Mrs. Lee:
Read your palm for sixpence.

Mike Rogers:
Go on then. And call them. [hands her a coin] Going to be rich, am I?

Mrs. Lee:
Every night and every morn, some to misery are born. Every morn and every night, some are born to sweet delight.

Mike Rogers:
Sixpence for that? You're naught but a laugh.

Mrs. Lee:
Some are born to sweet delight,

Miss Marple, Mrs. Lee:
some are born to endless night.

[last lines]

Mike Rogers:
[voice-over as he writes] In my end is my beginning. That's what they say, isn't it?

Mike Rogers:
My end... my beginning.

Miss Marple:
It's God who forgives.

Jackie Afflick:
[Eve Ballantyne, who doesn't like Jackie, comes in] Miss Ballantyne.

Eve Ballantine:
Mr. Afflick.

Jackie Afflick:
How's tricks?

Eve Ballantine:
Tricky.

Hugh Hornbeam:
Miss Ballantine, how's tricks?

Eve Ballantine:
Tricky.

Miss Jane Marple:
It was long time. Do you really want to rake up the past? Who knows what we may find?

Chief Inspector Arthur Primer:
Miss Marple, still snooping?

Miss Jane Marple:
I hate a case unsolved.

Miss Jane Marple:
[a body has been found in the library of Arthur and Dolly Bantry] Oh, Dolly, what a terrible thing!

Dolly Bantry:
I know. Rather thrilling, isn't it?

Basil Blake:
[introducing his wife to Colonel Melchett] Dinah Lee, minor actress, major slut!

[repeated line]

Dolly Bantry:
Isn't she marvellous?

Miss Marple:
Heather Badcock?

Dolly Bantry:
Dead as a doornail.

Miss Marple:
Oh dear.

Dolly Bantry:
And at the garden party.

Miss Marple:
Dear me.

Dolly Bantry:
Full of beans one minute, pegged out the next.

Miss Marple:
What did she die of?

Dolly Bantry:
No one knows. She was fit as a fiddle, apparently. Mind you, she always did have that sort of ripe look, like a piece of fruit that's about to go off.

Miss Marple:
I sometimes wonder if the tale bearer is as guilty as the tale maker.

Cardew Pye:
Oops, my dear Miss Marple! You're being moral and forget you're among friends.

Joanna Burton:
[to Jerry] You know, it's striking me as most extraordinary irony that you managed to survive the war with such flying colors yet seem to find the peace so defeating.

Inspector Graves:
I can't help feeling , sir, that in this case, our man is a woman, if you get my drift.

Jerry Burton:
What's that?

Jerry Burton:
[He looks at a photograph] Unh!

Joanna Burton:
It's a photograph of a diseased spleen. Owen gave it to me.

Jerry Burton:
Was he out of chocolate?

Joanna Burton:
He thought I might be interested. I'm not entirely frivolous, you know.

Jerry Burton:
Pretty ropey, I thought.

Joanna Burton:
Hmmmm. There's something on his mind.

Jerry Burton:
Yes, a rotting spleen perhaps... or you?

Mrs. Maud Dane Calthrop:
[referring to the poison pen letters] Been going on for weeks. That's why the Colonel shot himself.

Miss Marple:
Now Maud, we don't know that for sure.

Miss Marple:
Love makes us do the strangest things.

Miss Marple:
Mr. Burton what about you?

Jerry Burton:
I'm going away.

Miss Marple:
To do what?

Jerry Burton:
Do you know I haven't a clue? I expect I'll find something.

Miss Marple:
Perhaps what you're looking for is right here under your nose.

Jerry Burton:
She doesn't want me Miss Marple. [referring to Megan]

Miss Marple:
Faint heart Mr. Burton. I once let someone go. He had... commitments you see... a war to fight. But I've often wondered if under other circumstances I would'e done the same. It seems to me Mr. Burton that, we should count ourselves blessed if we are allowed just one shot at happiness.

[Jerry goes outside and walks over to Megan, who is sitting on a swing under a tree]

Megan Hunter:
Thanks for pulling me out of the oven.

Jerry Burton:
It's alright. I don't suppose you've changed your mind?

Megan Hunter:
[looking at the ground] No.

Jerry Burton:
Because, I'm absolutely sure you see. [Megan looks at him] Quite, quite certain that to, look after you... to make you happy and keep you from harm, is now the purpose of my life. [Megan stares at him] So there's nothing I can say or do that can make you reconsider? [Megan shakes her head] Not even this? [Jerry takes Megan's hand, she stands up and Jerry kisses her. Miss Marple watches happily from the window and Megan realizes that she loves Jerry]

[last lines]

Jerry Burton:
[voiceover] And so I found myself on another morning, with another girl, and for the first time in my life, I was on the verge of something bright and good.

[Jerry and Megan ride out of the village together on a motorbike]

Megan Hunter:
I hope my mother isn't boring you. She talks all the time, but in fact says very little.

Cardew Pye:
I often find the most unlikely people doing the most surprising things. Don't you agree, Miss Marple?

Miss Marple:
On the contrary, Mr. Pye, I usually find the most likely people behaving exactly as I would have expected.

DI Slack:
Nothing gets past you, Miss Marple, does it?

Miss Jane Marple:
[dryly] Hardly ever.

Lawrence Redding:
I'll have to leave, you know, for Anne's sake.

Miss Jane Marple:
That's very brave.

Lawrence Redding:
Yes, well, I'll soon be over it.

Miss Jane Marple:
You won't, not for a long while.

Lawrence Redding:
Nothing gets past you, Miss Marple, does it?

Miss Jane Marple:
[smiling] Hardly ever, young man.

Colonel Protheroe:
[Reading the Bible during the church service] But every man is tempted when he is drawn away of his own lust, and enticed. Then, when lust hath conceived, it bringeth forth sin, and sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth... death. Here endeth the lesson.

Miss Hartnell:
Where's Lettice this morning?

Miss Jane Marple:
Mr. Redding's painting her.

Miss Hartnell:
On a Sunday? You don't think...?

Miss Jane Marple:
Oh, he does have a way with him, but she's just a girl. I'd plumb for an older candidate if there is someone.

Miss Jane Marple:
What is this, Mary?

Mary Hill:
Soup.

Miss Jane Marple:
Does it have a name?

Mary Hill:
Bits-and-bobs-and-odds-and-sods-and-the-meat-ration's-been-cut-again soup.

[Colonel Protheroe discovers that the artist Lawrence Redding has been painting a portrait of his daughter in her bathing suit]

Lettice Protheroe:
It - it's more artistic.

Colonel Protheroe:
There's art, and there's SMUT! How dare he! And how dare you!

Colonel Protheroe:
[referring to the artist, Lawrence Redding, while at the dinner table] I forbid you to see him again!

Lettice Protheroe:
He was only painting me.

Colonel Protheroe:
[disbelieving] Oh!

Lettice Protheroe:
But I wish he were doing something, with all the stupid fuss you're making.

Colonel Protheroe:
Don't be common!

Lettice Protheroe:
Well, don't be horrid, then! You've already driven the DuFosses to bed because of your foul mood.

Colonel Protheroe:
Well, you can go, too!

Lettice Protheroe:
Gladly! [throws napkin on the table, gets up and walks off]

DI Slack:
So the vicar's called away with a bogus message. Murderer comes in through the garden. Victim writing note with back turned. [mimes shooting the dead Colonel Protheroe at the desk] That's how and when; just why and who.

DI Slack:
The lady in the cottage with a view of the back here.

Rev Leonard Clement:
Miss Marple?

DI Slack:
I need to interview her. Would you tag along? These old maids tend to get nervous.

Miss Jane Marple:
Why does Inspector Slack think the Colonel was shot at twenty past six?

Dr. Haydock:
He'd started writing a note to the vicar saying he couldn't wait. He put the time on it.

Miss Jane Marple:
Had he?

Dr. Haydock:
And the clock stopped at just gone 6:20. He knocked it off the desk when he took the bullet.

Miss Jane Marple:
Oh, dear. I'm afraid I must put a cat amongst the Inspector's pigeons.

DI Slack:
The chief constable sends his regards.

Miss Jane Marple:
How lovely. I have been of some assistance to him from time to time.

DI Slack:
He said.

DI Slack:
[believing Lawrence Redding killed Colonel Protheroe] I've got a confession. And if the bullet that killed the Colonel doesn't match Redding's gun, I'll eat my handcuffs. Sometimes, the simple explanation is the right one.

Miss Jane Marple:
Last night's wasn't.

Miss Jane Marple:
[referring to Colonel Protheroe] If he was shot at a quarter to seven, why would he have stopped in the middle of a sentence at twenty past six?

[In Miss Marple's home, Mrs. Protheroe is attempting unsuccessfully to convince Inspector Slack that she killed her husband, when the phone rings, and Slack answers it]

DI Slack:
St. Mary Mead, two - yes, speaking. Is that definite? Right. [hangs up] I don't like my time wasted, Mrs. Protheroe. The bullet that killed your husband was fired from Mr. Redding's gun.

Anne Protheroe:
But... he did it for me!

DI Slack:
He didn't do it for anyone! I released him half an hour ago. Just happened to be carrying his gun, which I don't believe. And more important, [to Miss Marple] and something you didn't think of: if the Colonel was shot at a quarter to seven, why did he stop the note like that at 6:20?

Miss Jane Marple:
[feigning surprise] Oh, yes.

Currate Ronald Hawes:
[seeing Miss Marple and Inspector at the vicar's desk where Colonel Protheroe was found dead] You're exactly where he was killed, aren't you? How horrible. Do you know who did it?

DI Slack:
Not yet, no.

Currate Ronald Hawes:
'Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord.'

DI Slack:
Well, someone beat the Lord to it.

DI Slack:
Look, it's easy to imagine all kinds of things after the event, but the simple fact is...

Miss Jane Marple:
Murder is never simple. We would be foolish, stupid, to ignore any possibility.

DI Slack:
'We?'

Miss Jane Marple:
[smiling] Did I say that? Hm. So sorry.

DI Slack:
[to a constable as Miss Marple is some distance walking away] I don't know whether to buy her a box of chocs or kick away her stick.

Miss Jane Marple:
[still walking away] I prefer the chocolates.

DI Slack:
[Miss Marple reveals that the note Colonel Protheroe left behind may have been altered] Thank you, Miss Marple. That means that he could have been shot after 6:20, and the murderer just put that onto the note, and then altered the clock...

Miss Jane Marple:
To the time when Mrs. Protheroe came here in answer to her anonymous telephone call, and Mr. Redding's gun is the murder weapon. [snaps her fingers] I think they were being, um... set up as pasties.

DI Slack:
[correcting] "Patsies," it is.

Miss Jane Marple:
Thank you, Inspector.

Miss Jane Marple:
[realizing who committed the murder and how it was done, smiling] How clever! [then frowning] How wicked!

Miss Jane Marple:
You don't like Mr. Clement, do you?

DI Slack:
Nothing personal. Vicars in general remind me of marriage.

Miss Jane Marple:
[understanding] Ah, of course.

DI Slack:
Of course what?

Miss Jane Marple:
Miss Hartnell's cousin's maid is walking out with a butcher's boy from Melchester who delivers to your mother-in-law. Mrs. Slack has been staying with her for a... little holiday, I gather?

DI Slack:
[frowning] A little, two-month, six-day, holiday so far.

Miss Jane Marple:
[wincing] Oh, dear.

DI Slack:
Hmmm.

Griselda Clement:
[referring to Colonel Protheroe] What a dreadful, dreadful man.

Miss Jane Marple:
You are quite sure?

Mrs. Price-Ridley:
I always put a pound note into the box on the anniversary of poor Bruce's passing.

Miss Jane Marple:
I know, but perhaps this time...

Colonel Protheroe:
Oh, come on, Miss Marple! If Marjorie said she put a pound in, then she did! So where's it gone? Well, I thought you'd be straining at the leash to sniff out the culprit. You do have a reputation to maintain.

Miss Jane Marple:
My reputation, Colonel Protheroe, if I have one, and how very kind of you to suggest I do, is neither here nor there. I merely wonder if it's a little early to talk of culprits.

Colonel Protheroe:
Nonsense!

Anne Protheroe:
[touches his shoulder in an effort to calm him] Lucius...

Colonel Protheroe:
Anne, don't paw me! Now, look, I'm a churchwarden, and I was in intelligence. I know when something smells fishy! This could be just the tip of the iceberg! Eh... Vicar! [marches off to confront the vicar]

Miss Jane Marple:
We're all very ordinary in St. Mary Mead, but ordinary people can sometimes do the most astonishing things.

Rev Leonard Clement:
I could strangle Protheroe sometimes. May God forgive me.

Griselda Clement:
I'd stab him.

Currate Ronald Hawes:
I'd poison him.

Dennis Clement:
I'd shoot him.

Lawrence Redding:
Use my gun.

Lawrence Redding:
And how would you do it, Miss Marple?

Miss Jane Marple:
I never speak lightly of murder, Mr. Redding. I hate to tempt fate.

Griselda Clement:
[Walks in on Leonard looking rather tearfully at Lawrence's portrait of her] Shame, he was on his way to getting me, don't you think?

Rev Leonard Clement:
[Choked up] Was he?

Griselda Clement:
...oh, you silly man! Yes he's charming, yes he's like a breath of fresh air in the village, yes I was flattered but... no! You are my husband, Len. I would never deceive you. [Kisses him]... Unless it was for the best.

[first lines]

Mrs Davis:
August, qu'est-ce que tu bois? Shaw, Harmondsworth. God forgive me! Wickedness!

Miss Marple:
It's the book of Revelation... Chapter six, verse eight. "And I looked and behold a pale horse, and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him."

Bertie:
Don't like the sound of that.

Miss Marple:
Well, it's the Bible, dear; I'm not sure you're meant to.

Miss Marple:
One must face things as they are. The truth, however awful, can never be as bad as, huh, one's imaginings .

Bradley:
You know my calling, I presume?

Miss Marple:
Turf commission agent.

Bradley:
Interested in horses, perhaps? Betting? Any particular horse you have in mind?

Miss Marple:
A pale horse.

Bradley:
[laughing] Very good, very good.

Miss Marple:
Thanks.

Bradley:
Oh, you yourself, if I may say so, uh, seem to be rather a *dark* horse.

[Last lines as Miss Marple bids goodbye to Mark Easterbrook and Ginger Corrigan outside The Pale Horse]

Ginger Corrigan:
[to Mark Easterbrook] According to Inspector Lejeune, Mr Bradley still can't believe you were a stooge. He really did think you wanted me out of the way.

Miss Marple:
Oh, I suspect, my dear, that nothing can be further from the truth. Well, I'd, uh, I'd better be, um...

[Miss Marple picks up her valise and walks away as the two kiss]

Mr. Venables:
Do you think it might be beyond the realms of possibility that I might get a drink?

Emily Trefusis:
If I were the nervous sort, I'd say there's evil in this house.

Miss Jane Marple:
The house is bricks and mortar. If there's evil, it's in somebody's heart.

Ahmed Ghali:
Why did the Captain not return last night?

Miss Jane Marple:
It's all a mystery at the moment, Mr. Ghali.

Ahmed Ghali:
I shall pray for his soul.

Stanley Kirkwood:
[Referring to the dead body] Shall we shift him into the garage while the guests are having dinner?

Dr. Ambrose Burt:
e should pack snow around the body... to prevent leakage.

Dr. Ambrose Burt:
Shall I attempt an autopsy on the deceased? There's kitchen knives. Nutcrackers could be handy.

Florrie:
That's all you can ask, isn't it? Someone who treats you right. Like there's diamonds on your soul.

[first lines]

John Carstairs:
Why didn't they ask...

Bobby Attfield:
Sorry?

John Carstairs:
Why... didn't they... ask... Evans?

Bobby Attfield:
Evans? Ask him what?

Miss Marple:
Reminds me of a film I saw during the war. Um, these commandos in Crete stole a German general's car with a wire coat-hanger. [bell starts to peal] Oh, is that the time? Marjorie's expecting me back for elevenses. Though where they found a coat-hanger on a Cretan hillside I've no idea.

[last lines]

Bobby Attfield:
Cliff walk, anyone?