The Great Quotes

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Peter: My spies tell me you have kept Leo as your lover.

Catherine: I did.

Peter: So?

Catherine: So?

Peter: "Thank you, husband. You were right after all, with your impeccable judgment, good looks, and massive c*ck."

Catherine: Thank you, husband. You were right after all, with your impeccable fudgement, good socks, and massive clock. Is that it?

Peter: No, it was... Close enough.

Peter: My mother used to bring him in when I was a child and asked him to stare into my eyes.

Georgina: Why?

Peter: To see if I had a soul.

Georgina: And?

Peter: He would tell her I did, but he used to wink at me when he said it.

Orlo: You cannot speak to me like that.

Marial: Because I am a serf?

Orlo: Because it's rude.

Catherine: If you did this, you would be a different man. You would be a man who had been on fire all this time... but finally, one day, let himself take the lid off, and let the fire burn away the fear, and leave him raw and ready to do what it took to join hands with me. And we would transform this country, and die, if needs be, in the process. But we would happily die, knowing we lived as we should. You would be that man.

Orlo: I can't.

Catherine: I saw a small man and imagined something bigger. I apologize, sir.

Peter: I think I was angry because no one has ever not liked me.

Catherine: Or at least, they're pretending to.

Peter: Hmm. Toosh.

Catherine: What?

Peter: Toosh.

Catherine: Do you mean touché?

Peter: What, is it not toosh?

Catherine: No. Touché.

Peter: See. That's great. How smart you are.

Marial: What if your vision of the bear, and the great love, your heart filled and glowing, what if that great love was Russia itself? Not Peter.

(Marial leaves the room...)

Catherine: Huzzah.

Catherine: Ever since I was a child, I felt like greatness was in store for me. A great life, I felt. Like God himself had spat me forth to land on this Earth and in some way transform it. That I was here for a reason, a purpose.

Marial: Why did He make you a woman, then?

Catherine: For comedy, I guess.

(Catherine is trying to commit suicide, but can't make herself quite do it...)

Marial: Would you like a cake with that knife, Empress?

Catherine: Do not try to stop me. Just leave me be.

Marial: I would not presume to speak. For the empress is so smart, and book readingly, that I'm sure her judgment is sound.

Catherine: I am resolved.

Marial: Vlad will get a bucket for the blood.

Vlad: Yes, miss.

Catherine: There is no other way. I am a prisoner here.

Marial: Indeed.

Catherine: Married to an idiot.

(Moment later...)

Marial: Towels, too, Vlad. There may be some overflow.

(Later...)

Marial: I will get coins to place on your eyes.

Peter: What the f*ck's going on, Archie? You said she was the one. You said you'd seen it. You said she'd make me happy.

Archie: I...

Peter: Do I look happy? Grigor, my face.

Grigor: Oh, discontented at the minimum.

Peter: At the f**king minimum.

Peter: Madame Georgina Dymov. Take the empress to the other ladies, and speak of hats.

Marial: Are you ready for tonight? You do know what to expect?

Catherine: You suppose me more naive than I am. My mother has explained everything.

Marial: She has?

Catherine: The man caresses you softly, pressing his lips to yours. Your breasts and skin awaken and shiver with palpitating joy. Between your legs quivers and moistens with longing. He enters you and you become one. Your bodies meld, your souls mesh. As a sensation takes hold of you, you fall into a black sky filled with the shiniest of stars. You float for a time in ecstasy, before waves of pleasure push and pull you back into your body. Your body ushers forth yelps, and sometimes song, before he and you explode within, collapsing together, spent and unified. Then, you lay together, laughing softly, weeping occasionally with ecstatic joy, and finally, he wraps his arms around you, whispers poetry softly into your ear, and you fall into a... delicious sleep.

Marial: Yep, that's pretty much it.

Peter: A toast to my new wife, the new empress of Russia! Huzzah!

(Catherine stands up to give a speech...)

Catherine: It is a...

Peter: No, you don't talk, my love.

Catherine: Oh. Of course. (sits down again)

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