The Bride of Frankenstein (1935)
Mary Shelley: It's a perfect night for mystery and horror. The air itself is filled with monsters.
Dr. Pretorius: Do you know who Frankenstein is, and who you are?
The Monster: Yes, I know... made me from dead... I *love* dead... hate living.
Dr. Pretorius: You are wise in your generation.
Dr. Frankenstein: [to Elizabeth] This is Professor Pretorius. He used to be Doctor of Philosophy at the university but, uh...
Dr. Pretorius: But was booted out - booted, my dear Baron, is the word - for knowing too much.
Dr. Pretorius: We shall drink to our partnership. Do you like gin? It is my only weakness.
Dr. Pretorius: Do you know who Henry Frankenstein is, and who you are?
The Monster: Yes, I know. Made me from dead. I love dead... hate living.
Dr. Pretorius: You are wise in your generation. We must have a long talk, and then I have an important call to make.
Dr. Frankenstein: I've been cursed for delving into the mysteries of life!
Dr. Pretorius: [looking at the female skeleton he has exhumed to create the Bride] I hope her bones are firm.
The Monster: You, make man... like me?
Dr. Pretorius: No. Woman... friend for you
The Monster: Woman... Friend... Wife...
Dr. Pretorius: [to the monster inside the mausoleum] Here, have a cigar... they're my only weakness!
Dr. Frankenstein: [clutching Elizabeth reassuringly] Darling, darling.
Dr. Pretorius: Sometimes I have wondered whether life wouldn't be much more amusing if we were all devils, no nonsense about angels and being good.
Lord Byron: Prologue
[looking out the window at a thunderstorm]
Lord Byron: How beautifully dramatic! The cruelest savage exhibition of nature at her worst without.
[turns to face Mary and Percy Shelley, both seated]
Lord Byron: And we three. We elegant three within. I should like to think that an irate Jehovah was pointing those arrows of lightning directly at my head. The unbowed head of George Gordon, Lord Byron. England's greatest sinner. But I cannot flatter myself to that extent. Possibly those thunders are for our dear Shelley. Heavens applause for England's greatest poet.
Percy Shelley: What of my Mary?
Lord Byron: She's an angel.
Mary Shelley: You think so?
Villager: He isn't human. Frankenstein made him out of dead bodies.
Karl: Whataya say, pal, let's give ourselves up and let 'em hang us. This is no life for murderers.
Dr. Pretorius: [speaking of his Devil creation] He bears a strong resemblance to me, don't you think? Or do I flatter myself?
The Monster: [Speaking to Frankenstein and Elizabeth] Go you live
[turning to Dr.Pretorius]
The Monster: You stay we belong dead.
Minnie: Fine I wash me hands of it let you all be murdered in your beds.
Dr. Frankenstein: [after seeing Pretorius' creations] But this isn't science. It's more like black magic.
Dr. Pretorius: You think I'm mad. Perhaps I am. But listen, Henry Frankenstein. While you were digging in your graves, piecing together dead tissues, I, my dear pupil, went for my material to the source of life. I grew my creatures, like cultures, grew them as nature does, from seed.