Henry Higgins Quotes

Professor Henry Higgins: There even are places where English completely disappears. In America, they haven't used it for years!

And if Henry Higgins is not the most reprehensible character ever written for the stage, that's only because somewhere, somehow, someone is composing a musical biography of Ronald Reagan

Professor Henry Higgins: She's an owl, sickened by a few days of *my* sunshine.

There's only one way of escaping trouble; and that's killing things." Henry Higgins, Act V, Pygmalion

Professor Henry Higgins: Oh, Pickering, for God's sake stop being dashed and do something!

Who asked him to make a gentleman of me? I was happy. I was free. I touched pretty nigh everybody for money when I wanted it, same as I touched you, Henry Higgins. Now I am worrited; tied neck and heels; and everybody touches me for money. It's a fine thing for you, says my solicitor. Is it? says I. You mean it's a good thing for you, I says. When I was a poor man and had a solicitor once when they found a pram in the dust cart, he got me off, and got shut of me and got me shut of him as quick as he could. Same with the doctors: used to shove me out of the hospital before I could hardly stand on my legs, and nothing to pay. Now they finds out that I'm not a healthy man and cant live unless they looks after me twice a day. In the house I'm not let do a hand's turn for myself: somebody else must do it and touch me for it. A year ago I hadn't a relative in the world except two or three that wouldn't speak to me. Now I've fifty, and not a decent week's wages among the lot of them. I have to live for others and not for myself: that's middle class morality.

A flush works over my cheeks and grows when Rolondo says, “And here I thought I was pointing out the impact of our divergent socio-economic status when faced with potential agent induced incentives.” We both look at each other for a second then laugh again. “Fucking Sociology major,” I mutter. “Henry-muthafucka-Higgins. You gonna Eliza Doolittle me?” “There you go again, trying to get me to do you. Let the dream die, man.

MRS. HIGGINS. Go home at once. HIGGINS [kissing her] I know, mother. I came on purpose. MRS. HIGGINS. But you mustn’t. I’m serious, Henry. You offend all my friends: they stop coming whenever they meet you.

The heavy mangle stood in the kitchen between the tall cupboard and the window under the clothes line. Blocky as a medieval torture instrument oozing black grease it stood foursquare in wrought iron on its castors; the space between it and the wall was used regularly by the cats as their lavatory, the old messes growing fuzzy hair. When the stink became unendurable old Mrs Henry, our cook, cleaned it out with buckets of water and Jeyes Fluid. When I hung on to the mangle for dear life I felt safe. Nothing could get at me in there, skinny as a skeleton.