Anna Kendrick Quotes

I love rules and I love following them, unless that rule is stupid.

I gave up on being Nice. I started putting more value on other qualities instead: passion, bravery, intelligence, practicality, humor, patience, fairness, sensitivity. Those

Having to fight for the thing you want doesn't mean you deserve it any less.

I thrive in structure. I drown in chaos.

Don’t try to participate in anyone else’s idea of what is supposed to happen in a relationship. You will fail.

But here's the thing about crazy: It. Wants. Out.

Some bitter boys reading this might accuse me of “friend-zoning,” but I’d like to say that even if a girl has misinterpreted a situation that someone else thinks was obvious, she does not owe her male friends anything.

Ninety percent of the people I’ve worked with who are disruptive or lazy or unskilled or addicts or likely to throw a tantrum are men. Ninety percent of the ones who get called “difficult” are women.

People being tough with you doesn't mean they're villains.

Maybe we all have imposter syndrome and perpetually feel like our real life is right around the corner,

*Some dudes like to say that men have the instinct to spread their seed, while women are supposed to protect their reproductive organs from everything but the best sperm for the strongest potential offspring. By that logic every woman in the world should be saving herself for Dwayne "The Rock' Johnson and never let any of you shitheads touch her. Seriously, you guys should stop using that argument.

Lesson for young men: if you want your eventual wife to be excited about sucking your dick for forty years, don't create a generation of women who think enthusiasm about sex is a bad thing.

I lost a Tony award to Broadway legend Audra McDonald when I was twelve so I’ve been a bitter bitch since before my first period.

If you think girls are supposed to object to sex until they find themselves incapable of resisting your magic penis, fuck you.

I realized that modern flirting was essentially just being mean while smiling.

Oh my god, I just made out with Legolas!' Again, I’m not going to name that actor, as I wish to respect his privacy

Self-doubt is healthy! Self-doubt keeps me in check!

Wear the Spanx. You might not want to squeeze them over your ass in the morning, but when you see that mac and cheese at lunch (do it, you beautiful monster) you’ll be glad they’re there, doing the lord’s work.

Alas, I've tried to be honest, because honesty makes me feel less alone.

Sure, it will be hard, but all you need to be a writer is perseverance, a low-level alcohol dependency, and a questionable moral compass.

I think I need to become perfect all at once, so I keep getting overwhelmed and putting it off. I can't remember the last time that I didn't have something hanging over my head. There are usually about thirty to eighty things. Is that normal? Don't tell me. If it's not, I'm a jerk. If it is, that's super-depressing, and I know I'll just use 'this is normal' as an excuse to procrastinate even more.

So many people say they wish they could be young again. You couldn’t drag me back to twenty-one. All the hiding, all the pretending, all the hanging out with people you don’t actually like.

People don't have to do things by half measures because they aren't getting paid for it. In fact, that's all the more reason to throw every ounce of passion you have behind it.

I will defend pumpkin until the day I die. It's delicious. It's healthy. I don't understand the backlash. How did pumpkin become this embarrassing thing to love but bacon is still the cool flavor to add to everything? I don't have anything against bacon; just don't come after pumpkin like it's a crime to love an American staple.

I gave up on being Nice. I started putting more value on other qualities instead: passion, bravery, intelligence, practicality, humor, patience, fairness, sensitivity. Those last three might seem like they are covered by “nice,” but make no mistake, they are not. A person who smiles a lot and remembers everyone’s birthday can turn out to be undercover crazy, a compulsive thief, and boring to boot. I don’t put a lot of stock in nice. I’d prefer to be around people who have any of the above qualities over “niceness,” and I’d prefer it if that applied to me, too. I

It’s like, it’s like I have a different heart. The other girls have one kind of heart, and I have a different kind.” My mom was understandably confused. “Are you saying they’re mean?” “No . . . I don’t know.” Saying other kids were mean felt like I was saying I was more kind, which definitely wasn’t it—more anxious maybe, more sensitive. I guess all I was feeling was that I was different. Sometimes I’ll be at work or a party and get that same feeling. I am not like these people. I don’t know what I’m doing here. And it comforts me to know that I felt that way as a child, too. Maybe that should make me feel worse, but it makes me calm and resolved. I’ve been prepared to be an outsider most of my life.

It's not that deep down I want someone to "take care of me," it's that I'm exhausted, and occasionally overwhelmed by self-doubt. I'm steering the ship, but I don't know what I'm doing. None of us do. But it would be *so nice* to believe that someone out there did, and that maybe they could take the wheel for a little while.

With every birthday, I have stupidly expected to feel different only to discover that I'm still me: tragically lazy and childish.

I'd been awake for thirty-two hours, but I still ordered a burger and a vodka, 'cause sometimes you can't call it a day until something good happens.

I wished more people could tell the difference between the "leave me alone" vibe I give off all the times by accident and my actual "leave me alone" vibe.

As Sondheim said, Nice is different than good. Do you need to do whatever you’re told to be a nice person? Maybe. Do you need to do whatever you’re told to be a good person? Of course not! Man, woman, personal, professional—some people have a skill for persuading you the best thing you can be is obedient. A

My handwriting as an angsty teen was appalling, yet somehow better than it is now.

I had to take a moment to wonder who else fell into this category of default enemy. I went through a mental list of people who, in theory, I’d want to hit in the face with a meat tenderizer. My coworker from ten years ago who owes me like three grand? It was ten years ago! You were addicted to OxyContin! Go! Be free! My seventh-grade teacher, who told me that most child actors don’t succeed as adult actors? You just wanted to scare me into having a backup plan! Farewell! Good luck! Tori from fourth grade, who accused me of writing mean stuff about all our friends on the playground wall? BURN IN HELL, TORI. I KNOW IT WAS YOU!!! I’m still working on it.

I really shine in a Taco Bell parking lot with a water bottle full of vodka, but I could work with this.

Couples, singles, gay, straight, cats, dogs, and well-trained lizards are welcome. No babies.

Well, we can stay friends if you want. I know I’d like to. But I’ll understand if you—” “No, I mean what happens right now. Like, how do you finish a breakup? Like . . . how does this scene end?” (Okay.

If there was just a little more time, or a little more money, or if you could just get through this one last rough patch, it would all be clear, it would all fall into place. It’s an insatiable trap. And

I've also now been around enough people who have a low opinion of anyone who's creative in a non-professional realm to know that that's ugly and ignorant. People don't have to do things by half measure because they aren't getting paid for it. In fact, that's all the more reason to throw every ounce of passion you have behind it.

I suppose I should try to find a balance, but that seems harder.

I thrive in structure; I drown in chaos. I love rules and I love following them. Unless that rule is stupid.

I happen to love rules. I love having a plan. I love a film set that’s run like a well-oiled machine. I thrive in structure; I drown in chaos. I love rules and I love following them. Unless that rule is stupid. And yes, I have felt qualified, no matter my age, to make that determination. Scrupulous people don’t enjoy causing trouble, but they can be defiant as hell. As

I gave up on being Nice. I started putting more value on other qualities instead: passion, bravery, intelligence, practicality, humor, patience, fairness, sensitivity. Those last three might seem like they are covered by “nice,” but make no mistake, they are not. A person who smiles a lot and remembers everyone’s birthday can turn out to be undercover crazy, a compulsive thief, and boring to boot. I don’t put a lot of stock in nice. I’d prefer to be around people who have any of the above qualities over “niceness,” and I’d prefer it if that applied to me, too. I’m also okay if the most accurate description of me is nervous, and a little salty. But at least I know what I want to strive for.

I’ve still got stuff to work on. If a guy can convince me he has the answers or a better plan than me, I will follow him anywhere. I’ve fallen for it more than once. It’s not easy to pull off, because I happen to think most people are idiots, but if you can do it, I’m in trouble.

Jessica became my first enemy. Like most enemies in my life, I hoped to punish her with passive-aggressive glances and silent-but passionate!-resentment. She retaliated by forgetting I existed. Ah, the moral victory.

And YET, I always think, This is my year. This year I’m going to get my shit SO together that I’ll always be able to see the solution to my problems. I’m going to get it so together that I’ll never have to “get it together” again.

You realize what you’ve done, right? You just expressed that it’s possible for a woman you don’t find sexually attractive to have value. I think those guys might think less of you now.” “Really? I hate those guys. So that would be great.” •

Do you need to do whatever you're told to be a nice person? Maybe. Do you need to do whatever you're told to be a good person? Of course not! Man, woman, personal, professional- some people have a skill for persuading you the best thing you can be is obedient.

I think self-doubt is healthy. And having to fight for the thing you want doesn’t mean you deserve it any less.

I knew I was right, which is a comfortable place for me, even when I’m really pissed off.

...linen is a fabric that wrinkles like Jack Nicholson's balls without Botox.

That woman is all the colors of the rainbow and I want to roll around in her closet. She

And having to fight for the thing you want doesn't mean you deserve it any less.

It’s not that deep down I want someone to “take care of me,” it’s that I’m exhausted, and occasionally overwhelmed by self-doubt. I’m steering the ship, but I don’t know what I’m doing. None of us do. But it would be so nice to believe that someone out there did, and that maybe they could take the wheel for a little while. It’s a seductive feeling. It would be great if it were real. But I guess I’ve got to count on myself. Which is not great news.

It's like, it's like I have a different kind of heart....sometimes I'll be at work or a party, and get that same feeling: 'I am not like these people, I don't know what I'm doing here' and it comforts me to know that I felt that way as a child too....I've been prepared to be an outsider most of my life.

It took an older man saying point-blank "I like giving you advice" for me to realize that yes, that's the bit you like. Not being helpful to me, but the sound of your authority reverberating in the ears of a younger woman.

I once told a guy I had to wake up early and he said, “I could wake you up with my—” Sir, I’ll stop you right there. That is the least sexy thing you could say to me. Nothing about you is sexy when you are the reason I am awake—you are basically an iPhone alarm with a pulse. And I don’t want to fuck my iPhone. At least not at seven a.m. But

I rarely give advice — your personal growth will only make me look worse by comparison — but as a suggestion, find your most psychotic baby picture and have it on hand for those days when you want to throw in the towel. It is both joyful and effective.

By fifth grade, I cracked a major development in strategy. I needed to get boys to talk to me. I wasn't pretty, but I could make them like me through the magic of conversation, or at least trick them into revealing some actionable knowledge and go from there.

Activities will include, pretending to help in the kitchen, watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, and saying you're so full you're gonna throw up and then waiting ten minutes and getting more pie. Once the sun has been down for a couple of hours the Christmas season is technically upon us, so it's time for the first Harry Potter marathon of the year. Starting with film number three, because obviously, and ending with film five when the filthy casuals are allowed to go home. The hardcores can sleep at my place and in the morning we'll finish six, seven, and seven but where stuff happens. Pumpkin pie for breakfast.

But here’s the thing about crazy: It. Wants. Out. Once

the crazy wants out

So if you see a wrinkled old bitch wearing a tattered fur and chain-smoking in an off-Broadway back alley . . . that’s just me. Starting four years from now.

I was their friend! I mean, “Mary D is a jerk”? “Amanda sucks”? Why would I write a bunch of mean stuff about my friends?! Using such generic insults?!

M. Night Shyamalan can’t be stopped. And for some reason, neither can I. Nudity

I lost a Tony Award to Broadway legend Audra McDonald when I was twelve, so I’ve been a bitter bitch since before my first period.

I’ve seen you on meth?!” “I would say, for the last year, you’ve only seen me on meth.” I’m the biggest idiot on the planet.

I would love it if we could limit my red carpet topics to my favorite colors, what sound a duck makes, and my thoughts on McDonald’s All-Day Breakfast—blessing or curse?

That night, I resolved to keep the crazy inside my head where it belonged. Forever. But here's the thing about crazy: It. Wants. Out.

I have a small stroke anytime someone asks to use my laptop; I only use that thing to look for porn and the definitions of words I should already know.

I would describe the size and style of our vessel, but I don’t know anything about sailing, so I’m trusting you to picture a boat.

I was eight years old at this point, and my mother had a brilliant plan: occasionally buy me a stupid-looking outfit, let me wear it, and I’d get it out of my system before I got to high school.

I’m not interested in pretending to be a reluctant participant because you think girls who like sex are a turnoff. If you think girls are supposed to object to sex until they find themselves incapable of resisting your magic penis, fuck you. (Unless this is a role-play fantasy between consenting adults, in which case I’ll go to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter and grab some props right now.) We fought

Wear the Spanx. You might not want to squeeze them over your ass in the morning, but when you see that mac and cheese at lunch (do it, you beautiful monster) you'll be glad there're there, doing the lord's work.

I love rules and I love following them. Unless the rule is stupid. And yes, I have felt qualified, no matter my age, to make that determination. Scrupulous people don't enjoy causing trouble, but they can be defiant as hell.

Baking is a really fun way to get people to like you. Being a good listener, a lively conversationalist, a loyal friend—it takes so much energy. Spend a couple hours alone in your kitchen and get the same effect? Sign me up!

If a guy can convince me he has the answers or a better plan than me, I will follow him anywhere. I’ve fallen for it more than once. It’s not easy to pull off, because I happen to think most people are idiots, but if you can do it, I’m in trouble.

I am not like these people. I don’t know what I’m doing here. And it comforts me to know that I felt that way as a child, too. Maybe that should make me feel worse, but it makes me calm and resolved. I’ve been prepared to be an outsider most of my life.

I shouldn’t be so worried about “changing” as an adult. As an adult you get to turn to your boyfriend and say things like “I’ve always found the obligation to say ‘god bless you’ after a sneeze really arbitrary and mannered. When we’re at home, can we stop saying it?” And then you get to stop! You have all this agency! You get to decide what kind of a person you want to be! And yet, you are still the person you were at three years old. Isn’t that kind of great? I think three-year-old you would be proud.

Even now, every job I get, I worry that it will be my last. I think becoming a washed-up hag is sort of my destiny. So if you see a wrinkled old bitch wearing a tattered fur and chain-smoking in an off-Broadway back alley...that’s just me. Starting four years from now.

The trickiest parts were the constant assurances that I was having a great time. I'm not an idiot. I knew what was happening was positive, it just got ... disorienting. I don't mind hard work - I love a challenge! - but pretending everything is wonderful when it's not makes me feel mentally ill.

am not going to be the person who shows off by leaning too far into the dolphin enclosure and then gets raped to death by dolphins (Google it, nerds). I’m going to be the person who tells her friends not to get too close to the dolphins, gets made fun of, and says “I told you so” at their funerals.

This was inspired by my pediatrician, a relatively young man whom I called Dr. Handsome. I had assumed this was because his name was Dr. Hasen or Dr. Branson, but I recently found out his name was Dr. Ritger, so I guess I should have just died at age four when I decided to call my physician Dr. Handsome without so much as a pun to justify it.

I happen to love rules. I love having a plan. I love a film set that's run like a well-oiled machine. I thrive in structure; I drown in chaos. I love rules and I love following them. Unless that rule is stupid. And yes, I have felt qualified, no matter my age, to make that determination. Scrupulous people don't enjoy causing trouble, but they can be defiant as hell.

People who grew up in major cities may wonder why the hell I would act like it's a big deal to be unaccompanied in New York City at that age. It's populated with both adults and children, it's a functioning metropolis, Kevin McCallister was only ten in Home Alone 2: Lost in New York, and that kid saved Christmas. Conversely, people from suburban areas act like my parents sent me wandering around the site of the Baby Jessica well, blindfolded and holding a flaming baton. So pick a side and prepare to judge me either way!

That’s how you save a friendship: compulsive documentation!

It’s like how every guy I know has told me a story about going to Hooters and how the waitress seemed “grateful” to finally have a customer who was “cool and fun.” Definitely not bullshit!

Except when I was born. My god, I was so fat. I almost killed my mother. And while that’s gross, it’s completely true. If we lived in a time before cesarean sections, she wouldn’t have survived. (I would also like to thank cesarean sections for sparing me the mental anguish of knowing I once passed through my mother’s vaginal canal.)

But at nineteen I did spend a short and regrettable period in a classic trap: trying to fit into something I hated, just to prove to myself that I could.

That night, I resolved to keep the crazy inside my head where it belonged. Forever. But here’s the thing about crazy: It. Wants. Out.

you think she could have yelled a bit less for the sensitive types like me who need to be told they are wonderful every half hour to accomplish anything at all

Sometimes you get to meet someone unexpected and delightful—for example, at my first Golden Globes I met the voice of Dug from the film Up, and he indulged me by saying, “I have just met you and I looove you.

I think I need to become perfect all at once, so I keep getting overwhelmed and putting it off.

It’s not that deep down I want someone to “take care of me,” it’s that I’m exhausted, and occasionally overwhelmed by self-doubt.

People don't have to do things by half measure because they aren't getting paid for it. In fact, that'll the more reason to throw every ounce of passion you have behind it.

Can you find me a friend?' I don't know why that's so funny. That's basically how I feel as an adult.

Can you find me a friend? I don't know why that's so funny. That's basically how I feel as an adult.

I really shine in a Taco Bell parking lot with a water bottle full of vodka, but I could work with this. After

By week three, if an actor is still coming to work in a full outfit at four a.m., you can be sure that they’re banging someone on set.

Scrupulous people don’t enjoy causing trouble, but they can be defiant as hell. As

People who grew up in major cities may wonder why the hell I would act like it's a big deal to be unaccompanied in New York City at that age. It's populated with both adults and children, it's a functioning metropolis, Kevin McCallister was only ten in Home Alone 2: Lost in New York, and that kid saved Christmas. Conversely, people from suburban areas act like my parents sent me wandering around the site of the Baby Jessica well, blindfolded and holding a flaming baton. So pick a side and prepare to judge me wither way!