The Best Stuart Little Quotes

Stuart: I thought I was in a fairy tale.
Mr. Stout: Fairy tales are made-up stories, Stuart. This is real.

Stuart: Snow, where are you going?
Snowbell: Oh, I gotta yawn, stare at traffic, lick myself. And believe me, that could take hours if you do it right.

[Margalo leaves with the other birds to migrate South]
Fredrick: What's the "silver lining" Stuart?
Stuart: She'll be back in the spring.

Stuart: 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.

Stuart: Little high, little low!
Mrs. Little: [from a distance] Little hey, little hoe.
Margalo: What the heck was that?
Stuart: Oh, that's just how we greet each other.
Margalo: Interesting.
Snowbell: Nauseating is more like it.

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: We're not giving up!

Stuart: Now I know that fairy tales are real.
Snowbell: [From the top of the stairs] Fairy tales are real? Oy, I think I'm gonna cough up a furball.

Stuart: So, what do I call you?
Mrs. Little: Mom.
Mr. Little: And Dad.
Mrs. Little: We haven't told you the best news of all.
Mr. Little: You have a brother, named George.
Stuart: What do I call him?
Mrs. Little: George.

Stuart: [as a newspaper falls on him] Oof, hey look! The Yankees won!

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: 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: Snowbell, are you all right?
Snowbell: Oh sure. In fact, I no longer need a litterbox.
Monty: [laughs] Mop up on aisle three! Snowy!

Snowbell: [after Stuart wakes him up] This better be important.
Stuart: Margalo's still missing.
Snowbell: I should have been more specific. I meant important to me.

Stuart: You seem tense!
Snowbell: Tense? Oh, I'm - I'm way, way past tense
Stuart: Well, maybe I could help. Can I scratch your ears? I could rub your tummy.
Snowbell: How'd you like to rub it from the INSIDE, mouse-boy?
Stuart: I'm a little confused. I thought that's what you did with a pet.
Snowbell: A Pet? I am not your pet! I'm a cat, you're a mouse. You should be livin' in a hole. This is my family.
Stuart: Can we share them?
Snowbell: Read my furry pink lips. "No!"

Stuart: I'm so happy! I... I feel 10 inches tall!

Stuart: [using a pay phone] Snowbell, I need more change.
Snowbell: What do I look like, a fanny pack?

[when Snowbell spots Stuart lying in bed]
Snowbell: Are you cozy?
Stuart: Yes, thanks. I'm quite comfortable.
Snowbell: All I've got to sleep on is a rag in the corner, you little rat!

Smokey: Say good night... Tinkerbell.
[Snowbell gulps]
Stuart: Hey, Smokey! His name is Snowbell!
[Smacks him off the tree with a branch, Smokey screaming]

Smokey: [pushes the branch Stuart's on down] Here you go, boys! Dinner's served!
Monty,: Alright, Smokey! Way to go!
Stuart: Oh dear!
Lucky: Look, it's mouse on a stick! I love mouse on a stick!
Monty,: A little further! Keep him comin'! Keep him comin'! Alright I can almost reach him! Keep him coming! I got him, he's mine!
[Snowbell snaps the branch]
Monty,: What the? Hey, the branch is the gonna!
Snowbell: Well, what have we got here?
Monty,: Snow, don't come out here, the branch is breaking!
Snowbell: Stuart, are you alright?
Stuart: Yeah, yeah I'm okay.
Snowbell: Just hang on, I'll take it from here!
Monty,: Huh? Take what?
[Snowbell pushes the branch Monty's on with Red and Lucky on further]
Monty,: Hey, c'mon Snow! You wouldn't do this to me? I'm not your old buddy?
Snowbell: Don't worry, buddy! I'm sure you'll land
[he pushes the branch further]
Monty,: No, no Snow! What're you doing?
Snowbell: On your feet!
[the branch snaps sending Red, Lucky and Monty into the water, all three cats screaming and splash in the water]

Stuart: [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: [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: mouse?
Snowbell: Uh... is that a trick question?

Fredrick: Stuart?
Stuart: Yeah, Dad?
Fredrick: What's the silver lining this time?
Stuart: She'll be back in the spring.

Stuart: Good-bye, fake father! Good-bye, fake mother!
Mrs. Stout: Good-bye, fake son!
[Stuart drives off in the toy car]
Mrs. Stout: I'm gonna miss that boy.
Mr. Stout: I'm gonna miss that car.

Stuart: There is no silver lining!

Stuart: 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!

George: [answering the phone] Stuart!
[very fast]
George: 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: So are you.

[Stuart is trapped in a washing machine which is filling up]
Stuart: Turn if off!
Snowbell: Why would I turn it off? It's my favorite show.

Snowbell: Cats don't eat raisins! We have too much class. We eat fish byproducts. Also, I... need to go tinky.
Stuart: 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!

[first lines]
Stuart: [as he grabs George's glasses] George, wake up.
[George is still sleeping]
Stuart: George!
George: [talking into his pillow] It's Saturday.
Stuart: I know. But it's the first day of Soccer. It's our first game.
George: [wakes up and puts his glasses on] Soccer? Uh... I can't today. I caught a cold while sleeping.
[George sneezes]
Stuart: 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: We're gonna play like Brazilians!
[George goes back to sleep, unfulfilled]

[Stuart has started the plane by accident; George and Will are playing a video game upstairs]
Will: Hey, what's that noise?
George: Sounds like a lawn mower.
Will: Inside the house?
Will,29282: [alarmed] Stuart!
[the boys rush downstairs to find the plane has started with Stuart in the cockpit]
George: Stuart, what are you doing?
Stuart: I'm not doing anything!
George: Pull the break!
[Stuart pulls the break, and flies to another part of the house]
Stuart: [to George] Get the book!
Will: This is cool. All my brother does is jam crayons up his nose.
George: [reading the instruction booklet] It says here, "On takeoff, pull back on the throttle".
Stuart: "Take off"? I'm already in the air!
[Stuart flies over George and Will's heads]
Stuart: Snowbell, get out of the way!
Snowbell: [running] Please don't hurt me!
[Mr. Little is upstairs]
Fredrick: [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: [shouting] Flying in the house?
George: At least he's indoors, nothing bad can happen.
Stuart: 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!

Smokey: How you doing? You must be Stuart.
Stuart: Actually... I must be going.
[Gets back into his little car]
Lucky: What's your hurry, Murray?
Red: Yeah, where ya going, Murray - - Urm Stuart. What's his name?

[Mr. Little is struggling to get a jar of pickles open]
Mrs. Little: Do you need...
Fredrick: Could you?
[Mrs. Little pops the top off the pickle jar]
Fredrick: [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: How about it, boys? Are you ready to play some soccer?
Stuart: You bet, Dad!
Snowbell: [disgusted] Oh, it's glop. Look what I'm reduced to. I'm a handy wipe with hair.

Stuart: [to Margalo, as the Falcon is attacking the toy plane] If I live through this, I'm sticking to painting and dancing!

Monty,: Aren't you gonna' run?
Stuart: Why?
Monty,: 'cause you're a mouse.
Stuart: I'm not just a mouse. I'm a member of this family.
Monty,: A mouse with a pet cat?
[rolls over and laughs out loud, repeating that line over again]
Stuart: I guess that's pretty funny!
Monty,: Pretty funny? I'm gonna wet my fur! A MOUSE WITH A PET CAT!
[laughs hard more, and looks down at Snowbell, who is embarrassed]
Monty,: Your new little master? Wait 'til the boys hear all about this!
Snowbell: Ah, the humiliation!
[to Stuart]
Snowbell: I'm going to kill you!

[at breakfast]
Mrs. Little: [hands Stuart his plate] Here you go.
Stuart: Thanks, Mom.
Mrs. Little: Stuart, don't forget your water bottle. George...
Fredrick: ...don't forget your cleats.
Fredrick: [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: 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: [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: Or in Uncle Crenshaw's case, never stops.
Stuart: Are you both coming to the game?
Fredrick: Wouldn't miss it!
Mrs. Little: [to Mr. Little] Frederick, this soccer game is making me very...
Fredrick: Proud?
Mrs. Little: Anxious... especially about...
[Stuart grabs some jelly from the jar and slips]
Stuart: I'm fine.
Fredrick: He's fine.
Mrs. Little: All those boys stomping around in cleats. What if someone...
[makes a smashing gesture]
Fredrick: Oh, Honey. He's a Little. All Littles are natural athletes.