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Stuart and Snowbell set out across town to rescue a friend.
Snowbell: Margalo? Where are you? Margalo: [from inside a paint can where Falcon has her imprisoned] In the can! Snowbell: Oh, OK. I'll wait.
Stuart Little: Little high, little low! Mrs. Little: [from a distance] Little hey, little hoe. Margalo: What the heck was that? Stuart Little: Oh, that's just how we greet each other. Margalo: Interesting. Snowbell: Nauseating is more like it.
Snowbell: What's wrong with giving up?... and just think of the time you save!
Snowbell: I wish I were the one that was dead! Margalo: Really? Snowbell: No. But I'm feeling very unhappy!
George Little: Am I in trouble? Fredrick Little: No, son, you're not in trouble. [George smiles] Fredrick Little: You're in BIG trouble! [George frowns when he hears this]
Snowbell: You've got guts, kid! And you've got spunk! Not to mention moxy! You've got guts, spunk, and moxy!
Falcon: The party's over, furface. [Falcon goes into an attack dive]
[Falcon has picked up Stuart and is going to drop him] Margalo: Don't hurt him, Falcon! Falcon: I won't hurt him. The sidewalk will!
Stuart Little: How can you think of eating at a time like this? Snowbell: Look, I'm nervous. And when I'm nervous I eat. 'Cuz I know, in my growling gut, that if anything happens to you, I'll be blamed. I'm sure the Littles already know we're gone and are planning to replace me with a hampster.
Margalo: You're as big as you feel.
Snowbell: I'm telling ya', Stuart, if more people gave up, there'd be fewer wars.
George Little: [answering the phone] Stuart! [very fast] George Little: Stuart, where are you? How are you? Are you all right? Did you find her? How's Snowbell? When are you coming home? Mom and Dad are asking alotta questions. Stuart Little: So are you.
Stuart Little: [after Margalo disappears] She's in terrible trouble, and I have to help her. I mean, what am I, a man or a [pause] Stuart Little: mouse? Snowbell: Uh... is that a trick question?
Stuart Little: [using a pay phone] Snowbell, I need more change. Snowbell: What do I look like, a fanny pack?
[at breakfast] Mrs. Little: [hands Stuart his plate] Here you go. Stuart Little: Thanks, Mom. Mrs. Little: Stuart, don't forget your water bottle. George... Fredrick Little: ...don't forget your cleats. Fredrick Little: [to Mrs. Little] My, you're looking lovely this morning. Mrs. Little: [as her husband kisses her] Well, some people just know how to wear oatmeal. Mrs. Little: [feeding Martha] OK, open up. Martha Little: Blah... blah. Mrs. Little: [surprised, sharing the news to the other family members] Did you hear that? She said "Blah... blah"! I can't believe it! Her first word! [George rolls his eyes at Stuart, as Stuart gives smile to George] Mrs. Little: Where's the baby book? I'm writing it down. Fredrick Little: [as he's packing food] I'm not sure that's technically, you know, a word. Mrs. Little: Well, of course it is. But you know, Uncle Crenshaw says that every Little starts talking by 9 months. Fredrick Little: Or in Uncle Crenshaw's case, never stops. Stuart Little: Are you both coming to the game? Fredrick Little: Wouldn't miss it! Mrs. Little: [to Mr. Little] Frederick, this soccer game is making me very... Fredrick Little: Proud? Mrs. Little: Anxious... especially about... [Stuart grabs some jelly from the jar and slips] Stuart Little: I'm fine. Fredrick Little: He's fine. Mrs. Little: All those boys stomping around in cleats. What if someone... [makes a smashing gesture] Fredrick Little: Oh, Honey. He's a Little. All Littles are natural athletes.
Margalo: I'll miss you Stuart. [Margalo and Stuart embrace each other]
Stuart Little: Don't worry about Snowbell. He wouldn't hurt a fly. [Outside, Snowbell catches a fly, eats it] Snowbell: [burps] Oh, those flies really come back on ya!
[Monty is looking in a trash can] Monty: Oh, can't I get any food in this city? [Falcon falls out of the sky and lands in the trash can. Monty looks up at the sky] Monty: Thank you.
Snowbell: [looking down on New York City, while climbing very high; and thinking about the mean falcon at the same time] I hope I live to regret this.
Snowbell: [after Stuart wakes him up] This better be important. Stuart Little: Margalo's still missing. Snowbell: I should have been more specific. I meant important to me.
[the Littles have just discovered Stuart's red roadster stripped] Mrs. Little: Who would do such a thing? Fredrick Little: Tiny little vandals!
Falcon: You should have stayed in your little hole, mouse-boy.
[Will discovers that George is in trouble with Mrs. Little] Will: What are you going to do now? George Little: Where's Canada?
Falcon: I'll be back for you, furball. Snowbell: Don't hurry.
Fredrick Little: Now, now. If there's a problem I simply pull on this string... [he does and it breaks] Fredrick Little: Well, now you can be upset.
[first lines] Stuart Little: [as he grabs George's glasses] George, wake up. [George is still sleeping] Stuart Little: George! George Little: [talking into his pillow] It's Saturday. Stuart Little: I know. But it's the first day of Soccer. It's our first game. George Little: [wakes up and puts his glasses on] Soccer? Uh... I can't today. I caught a cold while sleeping. [George sneezes] Stuart Little: You'll be fine. Come on, come on. It's gonna be great. [Stuart takes his pajama top off and kicks it into the laundry hamper like a soccer ball] Stuart Little: We're gonna play like Brazilians! [George goes back to sleep, unfulfilled]
Stuart Little: [to Margalo, as the Falcon is attacking the toy plane] If I live through this, I'm sticking to painting and dancing!
Stuart Little: There is no silver lining!
Snowbell: This is a sign, Stuart, like the burning bush, except its a carberator and I'm not Moses. But it's telling us something: Let your people go! Stuart Little: We're not giving up!
[Snowball hissing at Margalo, starts coughing] Snowbell: Oh, oh! Hairball! Major hairball! And yet we continue to lick ourselves. Unbelievable!
[Stuart has started the plane by accident; George and Will are playing a video game upstairs] Will: Hey, what's that noise? George Little: Sounds like a lawn mower. Will: Inside the house? Will, George Little: [alarmed] Stuart! [the boys rush downstairs to find the plane has started with Stuart in the cockpit] George Little: Stuart, what are you doing? Stuart Little: I'm not doing anything! George Little: Pull the break! [Stuart pulls the break, and flies to another part of the house] Stuart Little: [to George] Get the book! Will: This is cool. All my brother does is jam crayons up his nose. George Little: [reading the instruction booklet] It says here, "On takeoff, pull back on the throttle". Stuart Little: "Take off"? I'm already in the air! [Stuart flies over George and Will's heads] Stuart Little: Snowbell, get out of the way! Snowbell: [running] Please don't hurt me! [Mr. Little is upstairs] Fredrick Little: [to George and Will] What's going on? Will: Oh, nothing. Stuart is just flying in the house. [Mr. Little sighs, but then becomes alarmed] Fredrick Little: [shouting] Flying in the house? George Little: At least he's indoors, nothing bad can happen. Stuart Little: Watch out! Hit the dirt! [Stuart flies over the boys' heads again, as Mrs. Little opens the door, holding a bouquet of flowers] Mrs. Little: [as Stuart crashes into the flowers] Stuart!
Will: Wow, this is cool. All my brother does is jam crayons up his nose!
Snowbell: [Stuart's car has broken down] This is a sign, like the burning bush, except this a carburetor and I'm not Moses
[Mr. Little is struggling to get a jar of pickles open] Mrs. Little: Do you need... Fredrick Little: Could you? [Mrs. Little pops the top off the pickle jar] Fredrick Little: [Martha throws her dish on the floor] Mrs. Little: [grabbing Martha from her high chair] OK, that's it for you. Mrs. Little: [to Snowbell] Snow, food. Snowbell: [running down the stairs] "Food"? Is it tuna or herring? Or dare I say it, is it lox? Oh, please be lox! Mrs. Little: [to Snowbell; Picks up the bowl leaving the food] Snow, that's for you. Fredrick Little: How about it, boys? Are you ready to play some soccer? Stuart Little: You bet, Dad! Snowbell: [disgusted] Oh, it's glop. Look what I'm reduced to. I'm a handy wipe with hair.
Mrs. Little: Did you hear that! She said "Bla Bla"!
Will: [as Stuart is flying] This is cool. All my brother does is jam crayons up his nose.
Snowbell: [trying to get the Littles' attention] Ho little, hoo wittle, hey wattle...
[when asked to clean up Martha's spilled oatmeal] Snowbell: Oh, great, it's glop. Look what I'm reduced to. I'm a Handi-Wipe with hair.
Fredrick Little: Stuart? Stuart Little: Yeah, Dad? Fredrick Little: What's the silver lining this time? Stuart Little: She'll be back in the spring.
Snowbell: Now, pay attention. What do you know about a bird called 'Falcon'? Monty: Falcon? Ooh, that's a bad guy. You don't wanna fool with him. Stuart Little: You know where we can find him? Monty: You don't wanna find him. You don't want anything to do with him. Trust me. He'd eat you so fast, you'd be a pile of falcon poop before you could yell for help. Falcons are vicious. They grab you by the back of the neck and carry you so high you can't even see the ground, and then they drop you. And by the time you hit the pavement, they just drink what's left through a straw. Stuart Little: Snowbell, are you all right? Snowbell: Oh sure. In fact, I no longer need a litterbox. Monty: [laughs] Mop up on aisle three! Snowy!
Stuart Little: [as Stuart and Snowbell are out searching for Margalo] Don't worry, George is covering for us! Snowbell: George? George doesn't know poop from applesauce! And I say that with a great deal of affection!
Stuart Little: [as a newspaper falls on him] Oof, hey look! The Yankees won!
Falcon: Don't ever make a friend I can eat.
[Margalo leaves with the other birds to migrate South] Fredrick Little: What's the "silver lining" Stuart? Stuart Little: She'll be back in the spring.
[the falcon dives up to behind Margalo, and stomps his feet loud enough while landing at her to startle her] Falcon: Remember me? Margalo: You scared me. Falcon: What can I say? I'm a scary guy.
Snowbell: Cats don't eat raisins! We have too much class. We eat fish byproducts. Also, I... need to go tinky. Stuart Little: How about the alley? Snowbell: An alley? I'm a cat! We're fastidious creatures. We use a litter box. We don't just yell 'Bombs away' and go wherever we are!
Margalo: I'm leaving you, forever. Falcon: And what do you think you will be without me? Margalo: Free.