Charlotte Bartlett: I shall never forgive myself!
Lucy: You always say that, Charlotte, but you always do forgive yourself.
Mr. Emerson: Well, you said you liked cornflowers.
George Emerson: So we brought you cornflowers.
Mr. Emerson: There are no jewels more becoming a lady. I like to see them in your hair.
Mrs. Honeychurch: He can’t do without me, you know.
Freddy Honeychurch: Nor me.
Mrs. Honeychurch: What are you talking about?
Freddy: Well, he asked me too, only I said no.
Mrs. Honeychurch: What?!
Freddy: Well, it was the way he put it. He said didn’t I think it would be a splendid thing for Lucy if he married her and wasn’t I off my head with joy? So I said, no I wasn’t.
Mrs. Honeychurch: Foolish child. You think you’re so high and mighty, when really it’s only abominable conceit.
Mr. Emerson: You love George. You love the boy body and soul!
Lucy: Well of course I do! What did you all think?
The Reverend Beeb: Why Miss Katherine, you have flowers in your hair!
Lucy Honeychurch: He won’t talk. He never talks. One’s lucky to get as much as a yes or no out of him.
Reverend Beeb: May I say something rather daring? I believe that if Miss Honeychurch ever takes to live as she plays, it will be very exciting indeed. Both for us and for her.
George Emerson: It is fate, but call it Italy if it pleases you, Vicar.
Mr. Emerson: ‘Built by faith’, indeed! That simply means the workers weren’t paid properly.
Mr. Emerson: Do we find happiness so often that we should turn it off the box when it happens to sit there?
Reverend Beeb: Mr. Emerson, this is Freddy Honeychurch. Freddy, this is George Emerson.
Freddy: Nice to meet you.
George: Nice to meet you.
Freddy: Listen, come and have a bathe.
George: Yes, I’d like that
Reverend Beeb: That has to be the best conversational opening I’ve ever heard. ‘Nice to meet you. Come and have a bathe.’
Miss Katherine Allen: Why, whatever’s the matter with Miss Lucy?
Reverend Beeb: I put it down to too much Beethoven.
Miss Katherine: I can’t help thinking Theresa….mmmmm….No.
Miss Theresa: I wish you’d learn to finish your sentences, Katherine, you’re getting worse and worse.
Miss Katherine: I cannot help thinking that our Miss Lucy did not look like a bride-to-be.
Miss Theresa: And what should a bride-to-be look like, in your infinite experience and wisdom?
Miss Katherine: Well, if you must know Theresa, she lacked…..radience.