The Ghost Writer
The Ghost Writer

Adam Lang: Spare me the bleeding-heart bullshit! Do you know what I'd do if I was in power again? I'd have two queues at airports: one for flights where we'd done no background checks, infringed on no one's civil bloody liberties, used no intelligence gained by torture. And on the other flight we'd do everything we possibly could to make it perfectly safe. And then we'd see which

plane the Rycarts of this world would put their bloody kids on! And you can put that in the book!

The Ghost Writer
The Ghost Writer

The Ghost: I really don't think this is a good idea.
Richard Rycart: You have no choice.
The Ghost: Emmett must have told Lang I've been to see him.
Richard Rycart: So what's he going to do about it? Dump you in the ocean?
The Ghost: Well it happened before.
Richard

Rycart: Which means it can't happen again. He can't drown two ghost writers, for God's sake. You're not kittens.

The Ghost Writer
The Ghost Writer

Ruth Lang: [to bodyguard] If we meet any terrorists, I'll text you.

The Ghost Writer
The Ghost Writer

The Ghost: Did you ever want to be a proper politician in your own right?
Ruth Lang: Of course, didn't you want to be a proper writer?

The Ghost Writer
The Ghost Writer

The Ghost: Forty thousand years of human language, and there's no word to describe our relationship. It was doomed.

The Ghost Writer
The Ghost Writer

Paul Emmett: A less equable man than I might start to find your questions impertinent.

The Ghost Writer
The Ghost Writer

The Ghost: Well don't tell me you're going to read it now.
Richard Rycart: Not all of it, just the beginning. There's something very important about it.
The Ghost: Yeah, it's the cure for insomnia.

The Ghost Writer
The Ghost Writer

Amelia Bly: Are you ill?
The Ghost: No, I'm aging. This place is Shangri-La in reverse.

The Ghost Writer
The Ghost Writer

Ruth Lang: I feel like the wife of Napoleon on St. Helena.

The Ghost Writer
The Ghost Writer

[first lines]
The Ghost: You realize I know nothing about politics.
Rick Ricardelli: You voted for him, didn't you?
The Ghost: Adam Lang? Of course I did, everyone voted for him. He wasn't a politician, he was a craze.

The Ghost Writer
The Ghost Writer

The Ghost: Well all the words are there, they're just in the wrong order.

The Ghost Writer
The Ghost Writer

The Ghost: I'd never guess you smoked.
Amelia Bly: I only allow myself one. In times of great stress or contentment.
The Ghost: Which is this?
Amelia Bly: Very funny.

The Ghost Writer
The Ghost Writer

The Ghost: You wouldn't happen to know if there are any flights leaving the airport tonight, would you?
Motel Receptionist: Not unless you've got your own private jet.
The Ghost: Ah, I lent it to my butler.
Motel Receptionist: Haha, oh you Brits!

The Ghost Writer
The Ghost Writer

The Ghost: You ought not to be written out of history.
Ruth Lang: Why not? Most women are.
The Ghost: Then I'll reinstate you. I'll put in all the occasions that he's forgotten.
Ruth Lang: How kind, like the boss's secretary who remembers his wife's birthday for him.

The Ghost Writer
The Ghost Writer

Paul Emmett: I doubt it very much. The gate will open automatically. Be sure to make a right at the bottom of the drive. If you turn left, the road will take you deeper into the woods and you may never be seen again.

The Ghost Writer
The Ghost Writer

The Ghost: [reading the first words of Adam Lang's manuscript] "Langs are Scottish folk originally and proud of it. Our name is a derivation of 'long', the Old English word for tall, and it is from North of the border that my forefathers hail." Fuuuck.

The Ghost Writer
The Ghost Writer

The Ghost: Look, l'm sorry. l should never have stayed in a client's house. lt always ends up with...
Ruth Lang: With you fucking the client's wife?

The Ghost Writer
The Ghost Writer

The Ghost: [on phone to agent] Some peace protesters are trying to kill me!

The Ghost Writer
The Ghost Writer

Paul Emmett: [about his wall of framed photos] Oh yes, the wall of ego. We all have one, our equivalent of the dentist's fish tank.

The Ghost Writer
The Ghost Writer

Adam Lang: [to Rycart on television] You cheeky fuck!