The Horse's Mouth

Gulley Jimson:
What are your feet like?

Charwoman:
Why?

Gulley Jimson:
If they're really old, trampled feet - as I suspect - I'd like to draw them.

Charwoman:
Draw your own feet! [she leaves]

Gulley Jimson:
Old women's feet... thin, flat, long, clinging to the ground like reptiles.

Gulley Jimson:
Go away. Scram. Tie lead weights to your feet, fireworks in your hair, kiss your mother goodbye and jump in the river. I don't know you. I don't want to know you. Buzz off! Explode!

Gulley Jimson:
[to Nosey] Now see what you've done. Got me locked out for life. [Referring to prison]

Nosey:
My bike! Bring it back. My bike!

Man in the Street 1:
Stop, thief! Stop, thief!

Man in the Street 2:
Stop, thief!

Man in the Street 1:
Stop, thief! Stop, thief!

Bobby:
[Blows his whistle]

Nosey:
No, no no. It's all right. He's - he's a not a theif. He's a friend of mine.

Bobby:
You start yelling "stop, thief" at innocent people...

Nosey:
I never did.

Bobby:
...and you'll find yourself in hot water. Now, be off with you. And pull your socks up.

Constable:
Mr. Jimson?

Gulley Jimson:
No. That's my first cousin, once removed, an artist who's always getting into trouble with the police. He just went up the road. Shall I call him back?

Constable:
Have you just sent a telephone message of a threatening character to Mr. Hickson of Portland Place?

Gulley Jimson:
I only said I'd burn his house down and cut his liver out.

Constable:
Now he doesn't want to prosecute, but if you go on making a nuissance of yourself, well, he's gonna have to take steps.

Gulley Jimson:
Would he rather I cut his liver out without phoning?

Constable:
Now, come now, Mr. Jimson. Put yourself in his place.

Gulley Jimson:
I wish I could. It's a very nice place.

Gulley Jimson:
Of course you want to be an artist. Everybody does, once. But they get over it, like measles and chicken pox.

Nosey:
But there have to be artists!

Gulley Jimson:
And lunatics too! But why go and live in an asylum before you're sent for?

Miss D. Coker:
Excuse me, Mrs. Monday, I'm Miss D. Coker, a friend of Mr. Jimson's and we want a few words with you, and not in the street, if you please.

Hodges:
Are you sure that Sir and Lady Beeder are expecting you?

Gulley Jimson:
Expecting me? They're down on their knees praying for me.

Gulley Jimson:
Anyone at home? Mrs. Morton Graines Waring? She's gone to Java.

Abel:
That's all right, I'll work down there. Come. I want to get started.

Gulley Jimson:
What are you doing?

Miss D. Coker:
I'm saying my prayers; I forgot them.

Gulley Jimson:
I thought you hated G-d.

Miss D. Coker:
Maybe I do.

Gulley Jimson:
Why do you pray then?

Miss D. Coker:
Well, he's our Father, isn't he?

Gulley Jimson:
That's a funny reason.

Gulley Jimson:
I like it here: bricks and broken glass, and an old garbage can. It's the story of my life.

Gulley Jimson:
It could happen to anyone, dear. All the greatest artists got their squares wrong. Numbers were invented by Arabs who hate art.

Gulley Jimson:
Go and do something sensible, like shooting yourself! But don't be an artist!

Gulley Jimson:
Thirty seconds of revelation is worth a million years of know-nothings.

Painter at side of ship:
Where do you think you're goin', Dad? What's the big idea?

Gulley Jimson:
Ah, there is good news yet to hear, and fine things to be seen... before we go to paradise... by way of Kensal Green.

Gulley Jimson:
I have news for you... I'm going to be a little bit ill.

Gulley Jimson:
It's the kind of face you want to throw a brick at, don't you think?

Sara Monday:
[Introduces Jimson to Dicky] This is Mr. Jimson. He's an artist.

Gulley Jimson:
Since when?

Sara Monday:
[to Dicky] You've never seen a real artist before, have you?

Constable:
[Dicky sticks out tongue to Jimson]

Gulley Jimson:
You've got the right idea, son. Why don't you bite me? That's the way to treat strangers. Make them respect you.