Bridget Jones's Diary

& Bridget’s Mum: Now, what are you going to put on?
    Bridget: This.
    Mum: Oh, don’t be silly, Bridget. You’ll never get a boyfriend... if you look like you’ve wandered out of Auschwitz.

& Bridget: New Year’s resolution... drink less. Oh, and quit smoking. Mmm. Ha. And keep New Year’s resolutions. Oh. And, uh... stop talking total nonsense to strangers. In fact, stop talking, full stop.

& Bridget: ... Thank you for calling, Professor Leavis.
    Daniel Cleaver: Guest list for launch party.
    Bridget: Ah.
    Daniel: Was that... F.R. Leavis?
    Bridget: Mm-hmm.
    Daniel: Wow. The F.R. Leavis... who wrote “Mass Civilization and Minority Culture”?
    Bridget: Mm-hmm.
    Daniel: The F.R. Leavis who died in 1978? Amazing.

& Shazzer: Fuck ’em. Fuck the lot of them. Tell them they can stick fucking Leavis... up their fucking asses.
    Bridget: Good, good. That’s very useful, very useful.

& Tom: Is that Cleaver chap still as cute as ever?
    Bridget: Oh, God, yes.
    Tom: Then I think a well-timed blow job’s... probably the best answer.

& Bridget: Hmm. Major dilemma. If actually do, by some terrible chance... end up in flagrante... surely these would be most attractive at crucial moment. However, chances of reaching crucial moment... greatly increase by wearing these. Scary stomach-holding-in panties. Very popular with grannies the world over.

& Daniel: So, um, how about a drink at my place? Totally innocent, no funny business... just full sex.

---

& Daniel: Now these are very silly little boots, Jones... And this is a very silly little dress. And, um... these are, uh... fuck me, absolutely enormous panties.
    Bridget: Jesus. Fuck.
    Daniel: No, no, don’t apologize. I like them. Hello, Mummy. I’m sorry, I have to have another look.
    Bridget: No.
    Daniel: There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I’m wearing something quite similar myself. Here, I’ll show you.

& Bridget: Bridget Jones, wanton sex goddess... with a very bad man between her thighs... Oh, Mum. Hi.

& Bridget: It’s the truth universally acknowledged... that the moment one area of your life starts going OK... another part of it falls spectacularly to pieces.

& Bridget: Do you love me?
    Daniel: Shut up, or I’ll do it again.
    Bridget: Do you love me?
    Daniel: Right. You asked for it. And over we go.

& Mum: What on earth are you wearing? You look like a common prostitute.
    Bridget: Yes, well, that was, actually, the point.
    Mum: Say hi to Julian.
    Bridget: Hello, Julian.
    Julian: My dear... you and your mother could be sisters.

& Daniel: Well, I just think you should know that, um... there are lots of prospects here for a talented person. Lots of prospects for a person who... you know, perhaps for personal reasons... has been slightly overlooked professionally.
    Bridget: Thank you, Daniel. That is very good to know... but if staying here... means working within 10 yards of you... frankly, I’d rather have a job wiping Saddam Hussein’s ass.

& Mark Darcy: Look, um... I’m sorry if I’ve been...
    Bridget: What?
    Mark: I don’t think you’re an idiot at all. I mean, there are elements of the ridiculous about you. Your mother’s pretty interesting. And you really are... an appallingly bad public speaker. And you tend to let whatever’s in your head... come out of your mouth... without much consideration of the consequences. I realize that when I met you at the turkey curry buffet... that I was unforgivably rude and wearing a reindeer jumper... that my mother had given me the day before. But the thing is, um... what I’m trying to say very inarticulately is... that, um... in fact... perhaps, despite appearances... I like you very much.
    Bridget: Ah. A part from the smoking and the drinking... and the vulgar mother and the verbal diarrhea.
    Mark: No. I like you very much... just as you are.

& Tom: Just as you are?!
    Jude: Not thinner? Not cleverer?
    Shazzer: Not with slightly bigger breasts and a slightly smaller nose?
    Bridget: Mhm.
    Shazzer: Well... fuck me.

& Tom: Well done, Bridge. Four hours of careful cooking and a feast of blue soup... omelette, and marmalade.
    Bridget: Thank you.
    Tom: I think that deserves a toast, don’t you? To Bridget... who cannot cook, but who we love... just as she is.

& Bridget: Well... I’m going to Bedfordshire.

& Mark’s father: I’m thrilled to announce... he has just been invited to be a senior partner... in the firm of Abbott and Abbott in New York. He also, incidentally... takes with him his brilliant partner in law... Natasha. And, well, I don’t think they’ll mind... since we’re amongst friends... if I say that someday this remarkably clever girl... is going to be something-else-in-law as well. {...} So I ask you now... to charge your glasses once again... to Mark and his Natasha.
    Bridget: No! No! It’s just that... it’s such a terrible pity... f-for England... to lose... such a great legal brain... F-for the people of England... Like me and you... to lose one of our top people. Uh... just top person, really.

& Jude: Passport, Bridget. And pants.
    Bridget: Yep, pants.
    Shazzer: Hurry up, Bridge! We’re freezing our bollocks off out here!

& Bridget: Mark! Mark! Oh, shit. Double shit!

& Bridget: I am so sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I mean, I meant it... but I was so stupid that I didn’t mean what I meant.

& Bridget: Oh, for Christ’s sakes. It’s only a diary. Everyone knows diaries are just full of crap.

& Bridget: Wait a minute. Nice boys don’t kiss like that.
    Mark: Oh, yes, they fucking do.

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+ Quotes on the Imdb
Σ Just perfect.

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