Maxim de Winter: I'm asking you to marry me, you little fool.
Mrs. de Winter: Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again.
Mrs. Danvers: [as the second Mrs. de Winter runs into the room] I watched you go down just as I watched her a year ago. Even in the same dress you couldn't compare.
The Second Mrs. de Winter: You knew it! You knew that she wore it, and yet you deliberately suggested I wear it. Why do you hate me? What have I done to you that you should ever hate me so?
Mrs. Danvers: You tried to take her place. You let him marry you. I've seen his face - his eyes. They're the same as those first weeks after she died. I used to listen to him, walking up and down, up and down, all night long, night after night, thinking of her, suffering torture because he lost her!
The Second Mrs. de Winter: [turning away in shame and shock] I don't want to know, I don't want to know!
Mrs. Danvers: [moving towards her] You thought you could be Mrs. de Winter, live in her house, walk in her steps, take the things that were hers! But she's too strong for you. You can't fight her - no one ever got the better of her. Never, never. She was beaten in the end, but it wasn't a man, it wasn't a woman. It was the sea!
The Second Mrs. de Winter: [collapsing in tears on the bed] Oh, stop it! Stop it! Oh, stop it!
Mrs. Danvers: [opening the shutters] You're overwrought, madam. I've opened a window for you. A little air will do you good.
[as the second Mrs. de Winter gets up and walks toward the window]
Mrs. Danvers: Why don't you go? Why don't you leave Manderley? He doesn't need you... he's got his memories. He doesn't love you, he wants to be alone again with her. You've nothing to stay for. You've nothing to live for really, have you?
[softly, almost hypnotically]
Mrs. Danvers: Look down there. It's easy, isn't it? Why don't you? Why don't you? Go on. Go on. Don't be afraid...
Maxim de Winter: I can't forget what it's done to you. I've been thinking of nothing else since it happened. It's gone forever, that funny young, lost look I loved won't ever come back. I killed that when I told you about Rebecca. It's gone. In a few hours, you've grown so much older.
Maxim de Winter: Happiness is something I know nothing about.
Maxim de Winter: Please promise me never to wear black satin or pearls... or to be 36 years old.
Maxim de Winter: You thought I loved Rebecca? You thought that? I hated her!
Maxim de Winter: "I'll make a bargain with you," she said. "You'd look rather foolish trying to divorce me now after four days of marriage. So I'll play the part of a devoted wife, mistress of your precious Manderley. I'll make it the most famous showplace in England if you like. Then, people will visit us and envy us, and say we're the luckiest, happiest, couple in the country. What a grand show it will be! What a triumph!"
Maxim de Winter: She was incapable of love or tenderness or decency.
Mrs. Danvers: [just as the second Mrs. de Winter reaches for the door] You wouldn't think she'd been gone so long, would you? Sometimes, when I walk along the corridor, I fancy I hear her just behind me. That quick light step, I couldn't mistake it anywhere. It's not only in this room, it's in all the rooms in the house. I can almost hear it now.
[turns to the petrified second Mrs. de Winter]
Mrs. Danvers: Do you think the dead come back and watch the living?
The Second Mrs. de Winter: [sobbing] N-no, I don't believe it.
Mrs. Danvers: Sometimes, I wonder if she doesn't come back here to Manderley, to watch you and Mr. de Winter together. You look tired. Why don't you stay here a while and rest, and listen to the sea? It's so soothing. Listen to it.
[turning away towards the window as the second Mrs. de Winter slips out the door]
Mrs. Danvers: Listen. Listen to the sea.
Maxim de Winter: That's not the Northern lights. That's Manderley!
Mrs. Edythe Van Hopper: [after hearing about Rebecca's engagement with Maxim] Tennis lessons my foot!
Jack Favell: I'd like to have your advice on how to live comfortably without hard work.
[after being asked what his costume was]
Major Giles Lacy: Strong man, Old man.
[urging Mrs. de Winter to jump out the window and end her misery]
Mrs. Danvers: Go ahead. Jump. He never loved you, so why go on living? Jump and it will all be over...
Mrs. Danvers: She knew everyone that mattered. Everyone loved her.
Mrs. Danvers: Oh, you've moved her brush, haven't you?
[moves it slightly]
Mrs. Danvers: There, that's better. Just as she always laid it down. "Come on, Danny, hair drill," she would say.
[picks up the brush and goes through the motions of combing the second Mrs. De Winter's hair, without actually touching it]
Mrs. Danvers: And I'd stand behind her like this and brush away for twenty minutes at a time.
[lays down the brush and looks at the portrait of Maxim]
Mrs. Danvers: Then she would say, "Good night, Danny," and step into her bed.
Mrs. Edythe Van Hopper: Have you been doing anything you shouldn't?
Jack Favell: I say, marriage with Max is not exactly a bed of roses, is it?
Mrs. de Winter: I wish I were a woman of 36, dressed in black satin with a string of pearls!
Colonel Julyan: Well, let me tell you something, Favell: blackmail isn't so pure nor so simple, and it brings a great deal of trouble to a great many people before it's through, and we know how to deal with it in our part of the world. And, sometimes, the blackmailer finds *himself* in jail at the end of it!
Maxim de Winter: [to his wife at breakfast] Have a look at "The Times"; there's a thrilling article on what's the matter with English cricket!
Jack Favell: You know, old boy, I have a strong feeling... that before the day is out, somebody's going to make use of that... rather expressive, though somewhat old-fashioned term ''foul play.''
Mrs. Danvers: [to Mrs. de Winter] I watched you godown, just as I watched her a year ago. Even in the same dress, you couln't compare.
Mrs. Edythe Van Hopper: [after hearing about the first Mrs. De Winter's engagement with Maxim] Tennis lessons my foot!
The Second Mrs. de Winter: Good evening, Mr. DeWinter.
Mrs. Edythe Van Hopper: [to Joan Fontaine] THe trouble is, wiith me laid up like this, you haven't had enough to do.