Saint Agnes's Eve quotes

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Roger Thornhill: Tell me, how does a girl like you get to be a girl like you?
Eve Kendall: Lucky I guess.
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Roger Thornhill: Has life been like that?
Eve Kendall: Uhm mm.
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This Light inspires, and plays upon
The nose of Saint like Bag-pipe drone,
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Follow your saint, follow with accents sweet;
Haste you, sad notes, fall at her flying feet.
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Picture that orchard sprite,
Eve, with her body white,
Supple and smooth to her
Slim finger tips,
From far, from eve and morning
And yon twelve-winded sky,
The stuff of life to knit me
Blew hither: here am I.
Eve: I'm afraid Mr. DeWitt would find me boring before too long.
Miss Caswell: You won't bore him, honey. You won't even get
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Methought I saw my late espousèd saint
Brought to me like Alcestis from the grave.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot!
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Gentlemen in England now abed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
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