Found 1231 results
41s
Something's missing. A crucial document, either misplaced or, conceivably, destroyed. I don't know what it contains, I don't know what it represents, I don't know what it is, but there are traces and shadows of it everywhere. Now, I don't want to alarm you, and I don't expect to see any significant change in the magistrate's ultimate decision vis-à-vis your own inheritance, but, especially given the circumstances of the death, as well as the disappearance of the key witness in the murder case, Serge X, I suggest that we immediately bring this matter to the attention of the municipal inspector so that there can be absolutely no question of impropriety at any future date. Agreed? Not agreed.
The Grand Budapest Hotel
31.2s
Experience? Hotel Kinski, Kitchen Boy, six months. Hotel Berlitz, Mop and Broom Boy, three months. Before that I was a Skillet Scrubber... Experience, zero. Thank you again, Monsieur Gustave. Straighten that cap, Anatole. The pleasure's mine, Herr Schneider. The strap's busted. These are not acceptable. I fully agree. Education? I studied reading and spelling. I started my primary school. I almost... Education, zero. Now it's exploded. Good morning, Cicero. Call the goddamn plumber! This afternoon, Monsieur Gustave? Without fail, Frau Liebling. What in hell is this? Not now. Family?
The Grand Budapest Hotel
35.6s
Who drew this? What do you mean, "Who drew this?" I did. Very good. You've got a wonderful line, Ludwig. This shows great artistic promise. Question, how do you intend to penetrate this lowest rudiment? It's 25 inches of reinforced granite masonry, is it not? Digging with the throat-slitter, I expect this would take three to six months of continual effort, during which time several of our members will have been violently executed. You hit the nail on the head, Mr. Gustave. We got fake documents, second-hand street clothes, a rope ladder made of sticks and bunk-linens, but we need digging tools, which are proving hard to come by in this flop-house.
The Grand Budapest Hotel
36.1s
YOUNG WRITER: It was off season and, by that time, decidedly out of fashion, and it had already begun its descent into shabbiness and eventual demolition. What few guests we were had quickly come to recognize one another by sight as the only living souls residing in the vast establishment, although I do not believe any acquaintance among our number had proceeded beyond the polite nods we exchanged as we passed in the Palm Court, in the Arabian baths, and on board the Colonnade Funicular. We were a very reserved group, it seemed, and, without exception, solitary.
The Grand Budapest Hotel
1m2s
Perhaps as a result of this general silence, I had established a casual and bantering familiarity with the hotel's concierge, a West-continental known only as Monsieur Jean, who struck one as being, at once, both lazy and, really, quite accommodating. I expect he was not well paid. In any case, one evening, as I stood conferring elbow-to-elbow with Monsieur Jean, as had become my habit, I noticed a new presence in our company. A small, elderly man, smartly dressed, with an exceptionally lively, intelligent face and an immediately perceptible air of sadness. He was, like the rest of us, alone, but also, I must say, he was the first that struck one as being deeply and truly lonely. A symptom of my own medical condition as well. Who's this interesting old fellow? I inquired of Monsieur Jean. To my surprise, he was distinctly taken aback. Don't you know? He asked. Don't you recognize him? He did look familiar. That's Mr. Moustafa himself. He arrived earlier this morning.
The Grand Budapest Hotel
33.8s
It is an extremely common mistake, people think the writer's imagination is always at work, that he's constantly inventing an endless supply of incidents and episodes, that he simply dreams up his stories out of thin air. In point of fact, the opposite is true. Once the public knows you're a writer, they bring the characters and events to you and as long as you maintain your ability to look and to carefully listen, these stories will continue to... Stop it. Stop it! Don't! Don't do it!
The Grand Budapest Hotel
46s
"My dear and trusted colleagues..." I miss you deeply as I write from the confines of my regrettable and preposterous incarceration. Until I walk amongst you again as a free man, the Grand Budapest remains in your hands, as does its impeccable reputation. Keep it spotless and glorify it. Take extra special care of every little-bitty bit of it as if I were watching over you like a hawk with a horse whip in its talons, because I am. Should I discover a lapse of any variety during my absence, I promise, swift and merciless justice will descend upon you. A great and noble house has been placed under your protection. Tell Zero if you see any funny business. "Your devoted Monsieur Gustave." Then there's a poem, but we might want to start on the soup since it's 46 stanzas.
The Grand Budapest Hotel