Peter: I'm really not enjoying this conversation.
Elizabeth: Shall I dance around a bit as we do it, so it's more pleasing for you? We could do with some lightness at court. Maybe she should all order us to dance for a day. How wonderful.
Peter: They're my friends. I can't watch them die, and she can't walk away from it and let them go, we all know that.
Elizabeth: You'll make other friends. People love you.
Peter: Eh, that's true.
Elizabeth: There's only one her.
Elizabeth: I'm dancing away now, having made my point in such a categorical and devastating way, you can but smile at my wisdom, and eat the macaroon I'm handing to you.
Peter: Hmm. Mm, f**king good macaroon.
Elizabeth (about Catherine): She doesn't want to be alone. Yesterday, she felt like a lone cloud in a sky full of ravens who didn't speak cloud, and yet she thought the previous day the sky was full of clouds.
Peter: It's complicated imagery.
Elizabeth: She was as lonely as a human can be. Her love betrayed her, her best friend lied to her, her team abandoned her, her philosophy broke in a Turkish blood spray, and her reason collapsed under the weight of it all. Her optimism, her arrogance, her belief in humans as good.
Peter: Well, she did describe it as a bad day.
Peter: To sum it up, we do not want to kill each other, that is clear, so I suppose it is a happily-ever-after kind of future, with much plum dancing and sex.
Catherine: What the f**k is plum dancing?
Peter: I am glad you fell into my clever word trap and asked. It is a ritualistic spring dance where an orgy occurs at dawn as plums fall from the trees above you.
Catherine: Of course, it is.
Catherine: We've had some difficulties.
Peter: Apparently, marriage has challenges.
Catherine: There was some bloodshed.
Peter: Ah, she tried to kill me, with much stabbing.
Catherine: He f**ked my mother with much f**king. We're trying to move forward.
Peter: Close the book on the past.
Catherine: Wake up to a new day.
Catherine: An uprising is building. They're burning towns down. What would you do?
Peter: You're the Empress, you say: "We're all going beaver hunting!"
Catherine: You're the worst leader imaginable.
Peter: Spoken like someone who's never seen the joy and comradery (camaraderie) engendered by beaver hunting.
(At Marial's wedding, Peter and Catherine have little speeches...)
Peter: If I may, I would like to wish the couple well. And maybe add a few words on marriage. I understood little about marriage until I met my wife. Now I know it to be a lot like the roller coaster she herself built, ups and downs, exhilaration, a... a slightly terrifying sense that all will go awry and everyone will die. But in the end you stay on the rails... kept there by gravity and the force of your love.
Catherine: My advice to you is to expect the unexpected. Marriage is both a joy and a place where you will be dealt unbearable griefs.
Peter: If love is strong enough, all griefs are bearable.
(Catherine find out Peter slept with and accidentally killed her mother...)
Catherine: I'm going to kill you so, so slowly, very painfully, and I'm going to say a lot of French words in a perfect accent as I peel your skin from your body and rub your flesh in rosemary salt.
Peter: I can't stop loving you when you talk, it rushes me.
Catherine: Hypothetical. A woman who has loathed you, tried to kill you, overthrown you, and imprisoned you walks into a room... and tells you she loves you. What do you do?
Peter: First try and start breathing again.
Catherine: And then?
(throws himself at her, Catherine takes off her corset very fast...)
Peter: Science. Love it.
Catherine: I'm ruthless.
Peter: Love that about you.
Catherine: I can be judgmental.
Peter: You don't think that. You think you are just perceptive and precise in attributing everyone's deficiencies and shortcomings.
Peter: You laugh because that is what you tell yourself, isn't it?
Catherine: Sometimes I think you're the only person who really knows me.
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