I
had the grand idea tonight that I wanted to be the Dowager of our little
family… upon further investigation I found that I am disqualified on so many
fronts. What a pity!
The
Dowager Speaks:
“One can't go to pieces at the death
of every foreigner. We'd all be in a constant state of collapse whenever we
opened a newspaper.”
“Nothing succeeds like excess”.
“What is a weekend?”
“It's the job of grandmothers to
interfere!”
And
finally….
[after all Robert's evening-dress
shirts have gone missing, he is forced to come down to dinner in a black tie
and white shirt, much to the horror of the ladies]
Violet Crawley, Dowager Countess of
Grantham: [glancing at Robert, while flustered] Do you
think I might have a drink?
Violet Crawley, Dowager Countess of
Grantham: [looking more closely at Robert] Oh, I'm so
sorry. I thought you were a waiter.
Maggie's great. No one can deliver a line like her, though Anjelica Huston comes close. Either one can arrive at my house unannounced for coffee and ladyfingers. I'd always let them in. And that's a promise. Hi, Annie!
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