Uncle Monty: Laisse-moi, respirer, longtemps, longtemps, l'odeur de tes cheveux. Oh, Baudelaire. Brings back such memories of Oxford. Oh, Oxford... Marwood: [voiceover] Followed by yet another anecdote about his sensitive crimes in a punt with a chap...
Uncle Monty: You shouldn't treat each other so badly. This boy's been out there frozen to the marrow and you just sit in here drinking. Now, come along, he's going to revitalise himself and you're going to finish the vegetables. Withnail: I don't kno...
Uncle Monty: I had to come. I tried not to. Oh, how I tried not to. Marwood: Listen Monty, there's something I have to explain to you. Uncle Monty: You needn't explain, he's told me everything. He told me that first day you came to Chelsea. Marwood: ...
Marwood: How dare you tell him I'm a toilet trader! Withnail: Tactical necessity. If I hadn't told him you were active we'd never have got the cottage. Marwood: I'd never have wanted it, not with him in it! Withnail: I never thought he'd come all thi...
Withnail: [overtaking a car on the motorway] Here comes another fucker!
Danny: Where exactly have you two been? Marwood: Holiday in the countryside. Danny: That's a very good idea. London is a country coming down from its trip. We are 91 days from the end of this decade and there's gonna be a lot of refugees.
Danny: Law rather appeals to me actually. [Withnail laughs uncontrollably and drops to the floor] Danny: Just high.
[Marwood comes out of the bathroom wearing a towel] Danny: You're looking very beautiful, man. Have you been away? Saint Peter preached the epistles to the apostles looking like that.
Withnail: [on the way to the cottage] At some point or another I want to stop and get hold of a child. Marwood: What do you want a child for? Withnail: To tutor it in the ways of righteousness, and procure some uncontaminated urine. [holding up a Fai...
Withnail: I think we've been in here too long. I feel unusual.
Monty: I can never touch meat until it's cooked. As a youth I used to weep in butcher's shops.
Monty: Come on lads, let's get home, the sky's beginning to bruise, night must fall and we shall be forced to camp.
Withnail: Father hated the thought of me being on the stage. Marwood: Then he must be delighted with your career. Withnail: What's that supposed to mean? Marwood: You rarely are.
Marwood: Have another look in that shed. Find *anything*. If you can't find anything, bring in the shed.
Withnail: Listen, we're bona fide. We're not from London!
