William: I live in Notting Hill. You live in Beverly Hills. Everyone in the world knows who you are, my mother has trouble remembering my name.
Anna Scott: I'm also just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her.
P.R. Chief: Next question? Yes. You in the pink shirt.
William: Uh, right. Miss Scott, are there any circumstances that you and he might be more than just friends.
Anna Scott: I hoped that there would be but I've been assured that there's not.
William: Yes, but what if...
P.R. Chief:
I'm sorry. Just the one question.
Anna Scott: No. It's alright. You were saying?
William: I was just wondering what if this person...
Journalist: Thacker. His name is Thacker.
William: Right. Thanks. What if, uh, Mr. Thacker realized that he had been a daft prick and got down on his knees and begged you
to reconsider if you would... indeed... reconsider.
Anna Scott: [pause] Yes. I believe I would.
William: That's wonderful news. The readers of Horse and Hound will be relieved.
[who will get the last brownie?]
Anna Scott: Wait, what about me?
Max: Sorry, you think *you* deserve the brownie?
Anna Scott: Well a shot at it at least huh?
William: Well, you'll have to fight me for it, this is a very good brownie.
Anna Scott: I've been on a diet every day
since I was nineteen, which basically means I've been hungry for a decade. I've had a series of not nice boyfriends, one of whom hit me. Ah, and every time I get my heart broken, the newspapers splash it about as though it's entertainment. And it's taken two rather painful operations to get me looking like this.
Honey: Really?
Anna Scott: Really.
And, one day not long from now, my looks will go, they will discover I can't act and I will become some sad middle-aged woman who looks a bit like someone who was famous for a while.
Max: [long pause] Nah, nice try gorgeous, but you don't fool anyone.
William: Pathetic effort to hog the brownie.
Anna Scott: Rita Hayworth used to say, "They go to bed with Gilda; they wake up with me."
William: Who's Gilda?
Anna Scott: Her most famous part. Men went to bed with the dream; they didn't like it when they would wake up with the reality. Do you feel that way?
William: You are lovelier this morning than you
have ever been.
Bernie: But she said she wanted to go out with you?
William: Yes - sort of...
Bernie: That's nice.
William: What?
Bernie: Well, you know, anybody saying they want to go out with you is... pretty great... isn't it...?
William: It was sort of sweet actually - I
mean, I know she's an actress and all that, so she can deliver a line - but she said that she might be as famous as can be - but also... that she was just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her.
[pause]
William: Oh, sod a dog. I've made the wrong decision, haven't I?
William: Is this your first film?
12-yr-old Actress: Well... actually it's my 22nd!
William: Any favorites among the 22?
12-yr-old Actress: Working with Leonardo.
William: DaVinci?
12-yr-old Actress: DiCaprio.
William: Of course. And is...
is he your favorite Italian director?
William: Whoopsidaisies!
Anna Scott: What did you say?
William: Nothing.
Anna Scott: Yes you did.
William: No I didn't.
Anna Scott: You said "whoopsidaisies".
William: I don't think so. No one says "whoopsidaisies" do they? Unless
they're...
Anna Scott: There *is* no "unless." No one has said "whoopsidaisies" for fifty years and even then it was only little girls with blonde ringlets.
William: Exactly. Here we go again.
[He falls off the fence again]
William: Whoopsidaisies. It's a disease I've got. It's a clinical thing. I'm taking pills and
having injections. It won't last long.
Anna Scott: I can't believe you have that picture on your wall.
William: You like Chagall?
Anna Scott: I do. It feels like how being in love should be. Floating through a dark blue sky.
William: With a goat playing the violin.
Anna Scott: Yes - happiness isn't happiness without a
violin-playing goat.
Keziah: No thanks, I'm a fruitarian.
Max: I didn't realize that.
William: And, ahm: what exactly is a fruitarian?
Keziah: We believe that fruits and vegetables have feelings, so we think cooking is cruel. We only eat things that have already fallen off a tree or bush - that are, in fact, dead already.
William: Oh, all right. Interesting stuff. So, these carrots...
Keziah: Have been murdered, yes.
William: Murdered? Poor carrots. How beastly!
Bella: Which way are you going?
Max: Down Kensington Church Street, then Knightsbridge, then Hyde Park Corner.
Bella: No, crazy, crazy. Go along Bayswater.
Honey: That's right. Then Park Lane.
Bernie: No, straight down to the Cromwell Road, then left.
Max: [they
continue arguing about the best routes to the Ritz, Max finally has enough and screeches to a halt] Stop right there! I will decide the route. All right?
William: Sorry Max.
Honey: Sorry Max.
Max: James Bond never has to put up with this sort of shit.
William: The thing is, with you I'm in real danger. It seems like a perfect situation, apart from that foul temper of yours, but my relatively inexperienced heart would I fear not recover if I was, once again, cast aside as I would absolutely expect to be. There's just too many pictures of you, too many films. You know, you'd go and I'd be... uh, well buggered basically.
William: Would you like a cup of tea before you go?
Anna Scott: No.
William: Orange juice? No, probably not... something else cold? Coke? Water? Some disgusting sugary drink pretending to have something to do with fruits of the forest?
Anna Scott: No.
William: Do you... always say no to
everything?
Anna Scott: [thinks] No.