Anne Hathaway Monologues

No sensible woman would demonstrate passion, if the purpose were to attract a husband.

"... that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. "

Presumably as the most disagreeable

"... insolent, arrogant, impudent, insufferable, impertinent of men. "

Too many adjectives.

Yes, well, others have detected more. It is celebrated. There's even a book about Selborne Wood.

Novels? Being poor, insipid things, read by mere women, even, God forbid, written by mere women?.

As if the writing of women did not display the greatest powers of mind, knowledge of human nature, the liveliest effusions of wit and humour and the best-chosen language imaginable?

This, by the way, is called a country dance, after the French, contredanse. Not because it is exhibited at an uncouth rural assembly with glutinous pies, execrable Madeira, and truly anarchic dancing.

Are there no other women in Hampshire?

Well, I call it very high indeed, refusing to dance when there are so few gentleman. Henry, are all your friends so disagreeable?

Forgive me if I suspect in you a sense of justice.

What value is there in an introduction when you cannot even remember my name? Indeed, can barely stay awake in my presence.

Cassie, his heart will stop at the sight of you, or he doesn't deserve to live. And, yes, I am aware of the contradiction embodied in that sentence.

"The boundaries of propriety were vigorously assaulted, as was only right, but not quite breached, as was also right. Nevertheless, she was not pleased."

"She began now to comprehend that he was exactly the man who, in disposition and talents, would most suit her. His understanding and temper, though unlike her own, would have answered all her wishes. It was a union that must have been to the advantage of both. By her ease and liveliness, his mind might have been softened, his manners improved, and from his judgment, information and knowledge of the world, she must have received benefit of greater importance. But no such happy marriage could now teach the admiring multitude what connubial felicity really was."

My characters shall have, after a little trouble, all that they desire.

A novel must show how the world truly is, how characters genuinely think, how events actually occur. A novel should somehow reveal the true source of our actions.

You asked me a question. I am ready to give you an answer. But there is one matter to be settled. I cannot make you out, Mr Wisley. At times, you are the most gentlemanlike man I know and yet you would...

It's something I began in London. It is the tale of a young woman. Two young women. Better than their circumstances.

And two young gentlemen who receive much better than their deserts as so very many do.

By a very dangerous young man, one who has, no doubt, infected the hearts of many a young… young woman with the soft corrup…-tion...

Dear Diary, today is my first official day as Princess of Genovia. We'll land in a few hours, and I'll meet Parliament and the people before beginning my royal duties. Mom is, of course, moving to Genovia with me, and we'll continue painting - without the balloons. Lilly and Michael are planning to spend their summer vacation at our - can you believe it - palace. They're even having my Mustang brought over, which I can legally drive in two weeks. Grandma's so glad to be going home, and Joseph - well, he's watching nearby as usual. Everybody's got pre-coronation jitters, including me. Everybody that is, except Fat Louie. He's totally adapted to being a royal. I guess he was one all along.

Okay… you know what? I don't feel protected. You try living for 15 years thinking that you're one person, and then in five minutes, you find out you're a princess. Just in case I wasn't enough of a freak already, let's add a tiara!

And then I realized how many stupid times a day I used the word "I". In fact, probably all I ever do is think about myself. And how lame is that when there's, like, 7 billion other people out there on the planet and when -

So listen to me when I say that love isn't something that we invented. It's… observable, powerful. It has to mean something.

We love people who have died. Where's the social utility in that?

Maybe it means something more - something we can't yet understand. Maybe it's some evidence, some artefact of a higher dimension that we can't consciously perceive. I'm drawn across the universe to someone I haven't seen in a decade, who I know is probably dead. Love is the one thing we're capable of perceiving that transcends dimensions of time and space. Maybe we should trust that, even if we can't understand it. All right Cooper. Yes. The tiniest possibility of seeing Wolf again excites me. That doesn't mean I'm wrong.

Time is relative, okay? It can stretch and it can squeeze, but… it can't run backwards. Just can't. The only thing that can move across dimensions, like time, is gravity.

No. No, no, nothing's… You know, it's just that both those belts look exactly the same to me. You know, I'm still learning about this stuff and, uh…

I don't know what else I can do because if I do something right, it's unacknowledged. She doesn't even say thank you. But if I do something wrong, she is vicious.

No, I don't want to quit. That's not fair. But, I, you know, I'm just saying that I would just like a little credit... for the fact that I'm killing myself trying.