Stuart Little 2 Quotes
Stuart and Snowbell set out across town to rescue a friend.
[at breakfast]
Mrs. Little: [hands Stuart his plate] Here you go.
Stuart Little: Thanks, Mom.
Mrs. Little: Stuart, don't forget your water bottle. George...
Fredrick Little: ...don't forget your cleats.
Fredrick Little: [to Mrs. Little] My, you're looking lovely this morning.
Mrs. Little: [as her husband kisses her] Well, some people just know how to wear oatmeal.
Mrs. Little: [feeding Martha] OK, open up.
Martha Little: Blah... blah.
Mrs. Little: [surprised, sharing the news to the other family members] Did you hear that? She said "Blah... blah"! I can't believe it! Her first word!
[George rolls his eyes at Stuart, as Stuart gives smile to George]
Mrs. Little: Where's the baby book? I'm writing it down.
Fredrick Little: [as he's packing food] I'm not sure that's technically, you know, a word.
Mrs. Little: Well, of course it is. But you know, Uncle Crenshaw says that every Little starts talking by 9 months.
Fredrick Little: Or in Uncle Crenshaw's case, never stops.
Stuart Little: Are you both coming to the game?
Fredrick Little: Wouldn't miss it!
Mrs. Little: [to Mr. Little] Frederick, this soccer game is making me very...
Fredrick Little: Proud?
Mrs. Little: Anxious... especially about...
[Stuart grabs some jelly from the jar and slips]
Stuart Little: I'm fine.
Fredrick Little: He's fine.
Mrs. Little: All those boys stomping around in cleats. What if someone...
[makes a smashing gesture]
Fredrick Little: Oh, Honey. He's a Little. All Littles are natural athletes.
Mrs. Little: [hands Stuart his plate] Here you go.
Stuart Little: Thanks, Mom.
Mrs. Little: Stuart, don't forget your water bottle. George...
Fredrick Little: ...don't forget your cleats.
Fredrick Little: [to Mrs. Little] My, you're looking lovely this morning.
Mrs. Little: [as her husband kisses her] Well, some people just know how to wear oatmeal.
Mrs. Little: [feeding Martha] OK, open up.
Martha Little: Blah... blah.
Mrs. Little: [surprised, sharing the news to the other family members] Did you hear that? She said "Blah... blah"! I can't believe it! Her first word!
[George rolls his eyes at Stuart, as Stuart gives smile to George]
Mrs. Little: Where's the baby book? I'm writing it down.
Fredrick Little: [as he's packing food] I'm not sure that's technically, you know, a word.
Mrs. Little: Well, of course it is. But you know, Uncle Crenshaw says that every Little starts talking by 9 months.
Fredrick Little: Or in Uncle Crenshaw's case, never stops.
Stuart Little: Are you both coming to the game?
Fredrick Little: Wouldn't miss it!
Mrs. Little: [to Mr. Little] Frederick, this soccer game is making me very...
Fredrick Little: Proud?
Mrs. Little: Anxious... especially about...
[Stuart grabs some jelly from the jar and slips]
Stuart Little: I'm fine.
Fredrick Little: He's fine.
Mrs. Little: All those boys stomping around in cleats. What if someone...
[makes a smashing gesture]
Fredrick Little: Oh, Honey. He's a Little. All Littles are natural athletes.
[Stuart has started the plane by accident; George and Will are playing a video game upstairs]
Will: Hey, what's that noise?
George Little: Sounds like a lawn mower.
Will: Inside the house?
Will, George Little: [alarmed] Stuart!
[the boys rush downstairs to find the plane has started with Stuart in the cockpit]
George Little: Stuart, what are you doing?
Stuart Little: I'm not doing anything!
George Little: Pull the break!
[Stuart pulls the break, and flies to another part of the house]
Stuart Little: [to George] Get the book!
Will: This is cool. All my brother does is jam crayons up his nose.
George Little: [reading the instruction booklet] It says here, "On takeoff, pull back on the throttle".
Stuart Little: "Take off"? I'm already in the air!
[Stuart flies over George and Will's heads]
Stuart Little: Snowbell, get out of the way!
Snowbell: [running] Please don't hurt me!
[Mr. Little is upstairs]
Fredrick Little: [to George and Will] What's going on?
Will: Oh, nothing. Stuart is just flying in the house.
[Mr. Little sighs, but then becomes alarmed]
Fredrick Little: [shouting] Flying in the house?
George Little: At least he's indoors, nothing bad can happen.
Stuart Little: Watch out! Hit the dirt!
[Stuart flies over the boys' heads again, as Mrs. Little opens the door, holding a bouquet of flowers]
Mrs. Little: [as Stuart crashes into the flowers] Stuart!
Will: Hey, what's that noise?
George Little: Sounds like a lawn mower.
Will: Inside the house?
Will, George Little: [alarmed] Stuart!
[the boys rush downstairs to find the plane has started with Stuart in the cockpit]
George Little: Stuart, what are you doing?
Stuart Little: I'm not doing anything!
George Little: Pull the break!
[Stuart pulls the break, and flies to another part of the house]
Stuart Little: [to George] Get the book!
Will: This is cool. All my brother does is jam crayons up his nose.
George Little: [reading the instruction booklet] It says here, "On takeoff, pull back on the throttle".
Stuart Little: "Take off"? I'm already in the air!
[Stuart flies over George and Will's heads]
Stuart Little: Snowbell, get out of the way!
Snowbell: [running] Please don't hurt me!
[Mr. Little is upstairs]
Fredrick Little: [to George and Will] What's going on?
Will: Oh, nothing. Stuart is just flying in the house.
[Mr. Little sighs, but then becomes alarmed]
Fredrick Little: [shouting] Flying in the house?
George Little: At least he's indoors, nothing bad can happen.
Stuart Little: Watch out! Hit the dirt!
[Stuart flies over the boys' heads again, as Mrs. Little opens the door, holding a bouquet of flowers]
Mrs. Little: [as Stuart crashes into the flowers] Stuart!
[Mr. Little is struggling to get a jar of pickles open]
Mrs. Little: Do you need...
Fredrick Little: Could you?
[Mrs. Little pops the top off the pickle jar]
Fredrick Little: [Martha throws her dish on the floor]
Mrs. Little: [grabbing Martha from her high chair] OK, that's it for you.
Mrs. Little: [to Snowbell] Snow, food.
Snowbell: [running down the stairs] "Food"? Is it tuna or herring? Or dare I say it, is it lox? Oh, please be lox!
Mrs. Little: [to Snowbell; Picks up the bowl leaving the food] Snow, that's for you.
Fredrick Little: How about it, boys? Are you ready to play some soccer?
Stuart Little: You bet, Dad!
Snowbell: [disgusted] Oh, it's glop. Look what I'm reduced to. I'm a handy wipe with hair.
Mrs. Little: Do you need...
Fredrick Little: Could you?
[Mrs. Little pops the top off the pickle jar]
Fredrick Little: [Martha throws her dish on the floor]
Mrs. Little: [grabbing Martha from her high chair] OK, that's it for you.
Mrs. Little: [to Snowbell] Snow, food.
Snowbell: [running down the stairs] "Food"? Is it tuna or herring? Or dare I say it, is it lox? Oh, please be lox!
Mrs. Little: [to Snowbell; Picks up the bowl leaving the food] Snow, that's for you.
Fredrick Little: How about it, boys? Are you ready to play some soccer?
Stuart Little: You bet, Dad!
Snowbell: [disgusted] Oh, it's glop. Look what I'm reduced to. I'm a handy wipe with hair.
Snowbell: Now, pay attention. What do you know about a bird called 'Falcon'?
Monty: Falcon? Ooh, that's a bad guy. You don't wanna fool with him.
Stuart Little: You know where we can find him?
Monty: You don't wanna find him. You don't want anything to do with him. Trust me. He'd eat you so fast, you'd be a pile of falcon poop before you could yell for help. Falcons are vicious. They grab you by the back of the neck and carry you so high you can't even see the ground, and then they drop you. And by the time you hit the pavement, they just drink what's left through a straw.
Stuart Little: Snowbell, are you all right?
Snowbell: Oh sure. In fact, I no longer need a litterbox.
Monty: [laughs] Mop up on aisle three! Snowy!
Monty: Falcon? Ooh, that's a bad guy. You don't wanna fool with him.
Stuart Little: You know where we can find him?
Monty: You don't wanna find him. You don't want anything to do with him. Trust me. He'd eat you so fast, you'd be a pile of falcon poop before you could yell for help. Falcons are vicious. They grab you by the back of the neck and carry you so high you can't even see the ground, and then they drop you. And by the time you hit the pavement, they just drink what's left through a straw.
Stuart Little: Snowbell, are you all right?
Snowbell: Oh sure. In fact, I no longer need a litterbox.
Monty: [laughs] Mop up on aisle three! Snowy!
[first lines]
Stuart Little: [as he grabs George's glasses] George, wake up.
[George is still sleeping]
Stuart Little: George!
George Little: [talking into his pillow] It's Saturday.
Stuart Little: I know. But it's the first day of Soccer. It's our first game.
George Little: [wakes up and puts his glasses on] Soccer? Uh... I can't today. I caught a cold while sleeping.
[George sneezes]
Stuart Little: You'll be fine. Come on, come on. It's gonna be great.
[Stuart takes his pajama top off and kicks it into the laundry hamper like a soccer ball]
Stuart Little: We're gonna play like Brazilians!
[George goes back to sleep, unfulfilled]
Stuart Little: [as he grabs George's glasses] George, wake up.
[George is still sleeping]
Stuart Little: George!
George Little: [talking into his pillow] It's Saturday.
Stuart Little: I know. But it's the first day of Soccer. It's our first game.
George Little: [wakes up and puts his glasses on] Soccer? Uh... I can't today. I caught a cold while sleeping.
[George sneezes]
Stuart Little: You'll be fine. Come on, come on. It's gonna be great.
[Stuart takes his pajama top off and kicks it into the laundry hamper like a soccer ball]
Stuart Little: We're gonna play like Brazilians!
[George goes back to sleep, unfulfilled]
