Nanny McPhee: Not at all.
Nanny McPhee: Leave it to me.
Nanny McPhee: I am Nanny McPhee. Small C, Big P.
Nanny McPhee: I hear you've been naughty.
Miss Kenton: Why? Why, Mr. Stevens, why do you always have to hide what you feel?
P.L. Travers: I will not have her called Cynthia, absolutely not. It feels unlucky. It should be something warm, a bit sexy. How about Mavis?
P.L. Travers: Poor A. A. Milne.
Ralph: Welcome, Mrs. P.L. Travers, to the city of angels.
P.L. Travers: It smells. Of...
Ralph: Jasmine?
P.L. Travers: Chlorine, and sweat.
Porter: Would you like me to unpack for you, ma'am?
P.L. Travers: Young man, if it is your wish to handle ladies' undergarments, I suggest you take employment in a launderette.
P.L. Travers: I know what he's going to do to her. She'll be cavorting, and twinkling, careening towards a happy ending like a kamikaze.
P.L. Travers: What is wrong with his leg?
Richard Sherman: He got shot.
P.L. Travers: Hardly surprising.
Walt Disney: We can't make this film without the color red - it's set in London, for Pete's sake!
P.L. Travers: And?
Walt Disney: Well, there's buses, mailboxes, guard's uniforms, the English flag...
P.L. Travers: I understand your predicament, Mr. Disney. It's just that - I don't know what it is, I'm just suddenly very anti-red. I shan't be wearing it ever again.
P.L. Travers: You are the only American I have ever liked.
Ralph: May I ask why?
P.L. Travers: No.
P.L. Travers: It is blasphemy to drink tea from a paper cup.
Kate: Are you going to walk me home? Or should I just get murdered on my own?
Catherine Bryson: Have you actually thought this through at all?
Bill Bryson: Of course not.
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