Brazil
Brazil

Jill Layton: Care for a little necrophilia? Hmmm?

Brazil
Brazil

Sam Lowry: Give my best to Alison and the twins.
Jack Lint: Triplets.
Sam Lowry: Triplets? My how time flies

Brazil
Brazil

Sam Lowry: I only know you got the wrong man.
Jack Lint: Information Transit got the wrong man. I got the *right* man. The wrong one was delivered to me as the right man, I accepted him on good faith as the right man. Was I wrong?

Brazil
Brazil

Arresting Officer: This is your receipt for your husband... and this is my receipt for your receipt.

Brazil
Brazil

Sam Lowry: Excuse me, Dawson, can you put me through to Mr. Helpmann's office?
Dawson: I'm afraid I can't sir. You have to go through the proper channels.
Sam Lowry: And you can't tell me what the proper channels are, because that's classified information?
Dawson: I'm glad to see the Ministry's continuing its tradition of recruiting the

brightest and best, sir.
Sam Lowry: Thank you, Dawson.

Brazil
Brazil

Santa Claus: What would you like for Christmas?
Little girl on his lap: My own credit card.

Brazil
Brazil

Harry Tuttle: Listen, kid, we're all in it together.

Brazil
Brazil

[last lines]
Mr. Helpmann: He's got away from us, Jack.
Jack Lint: 'Fraid you're right, Mr. Helpmann. He's gone.

Brazil
Brazil

Harry Tuttle: Bloody paperwork. Huh!
Sam Lowry: I suppose one has to expect a certain amount.
Harry Tuttle: Why? I came into this game for the action, the excitement. Go anywhere, travel light, get in, get out, wherever there's trouble, a man alone. Now they got the whole country sectioned off, you can't make a move without a form.


Brazil
Brazil

Mr. Warrenn: What is this mess? An empty desk is an efficient desk.

Brazil
Brazil

Sam Lowry: My name's Lowry. Sam Lowry. I've been told to report to Mr. Warrenn.
Porter - Information Retrieval: Thirtieth floor, sir. You're expected.
Sam Lowry: Um... don't you want to search me?
Porter - Information Retrieval: No sir.
Sam Lowry: Do you want to see my ID?

Porter - Information Retrieval: No need, sir.
Sam Lowry: But I could be anybody.
Porter - Information Retrieval: No you couldn't sir. This is Information Retrieval.

Brazil
Brazil

Kurtzmann: [on Buttle] You see? The population census has got him down as "dormanted." Uh, the Central Collective Storehouse computer has got him down as "deleted."
Sam Lowry: Hang on.
[goes to a computer terminal]
Kurtzmann: Information Retrieval has got him down as "inoperative." And there's another one - security has got

him down as "excised." Administration has got him down as "completed."
Sam Lowry: He's dead.

Brazil
Brazil

Guard: Don't fight it son. Confess quickly! If you hold out too long you could jeopardize your credit rating.

Brazil
Brazil

Jack Lint: It's not my fault that Buttle's heart condition didn't appear on Tuttle's file!

Brazil
Brazil

Mr. Helpmann: Bad sportsmanship. A ruthless minority of people seem to have forgotten good old-fashioned virtues. They just can't stand seeing the other fellow win. If these people would just play the game...

Brazil
Brazil

Sam Lowry: Can you fix it?
Harry Tuttle: No, I can't. But I can bypass it with one of these.
[Holds up a bizarre device]

Brazil
Brazil

Mrs. Terrain: There's been a little complication with my complication

Brazil
Brazil

Telegram Girl: [dancing wildly, while singing in an absurdly high soprano] A-a-a-a-a-a-A-a-a-a-a-a-a-A-a-a-a-a-a-a-A-A! Mrs Ida Lowry requests the pleasure of your COMPANYYYY! At her APARTMENT TONIIIIGHTT! For eight thirtee-EE-ee-ee-ee-ee-ee-EE, to MIDNIGHTTT! To celebrate the completion of her recent cosmetic SURGERYYY! E-e-e-e-e-e-E-e-e-e-e-e-E! wwwWWAAAAAAIIIIIIIII!

[very long pause, Sam glances around nervously]
Sam Lowry: ummm... Thanks.
Telegram Girl: It's reply paid.
Sam Lowry: Is it?
[telegram girl nods]
Sam Lowry: oh... um... two, three,
[singing]
Sam Lowry: Mother, I sorry that I am unable to come to your parrrttty...


Telegram Girl: You DON'T have to sing it!
Sam Lowry: I don't?

Brazil
Brazil

Shirley: [no meals yet] Salt?

Brazil
Brazil

[last lines]
Mr. Helpmann: He's got away from us, Jack.
Jack Lint: Afraid you're right, Mr. Helpmann. He's gone.
Mr. Helpmann: Mmm.
Jack Lint: Well...