Jessica Rabbit Quotes

I want you to channel Jessica Rabbit and give him a show.

Morrigan was startled to realize that he was blinking back tears. She'd never known someone could feel so strongly about his friends. Probably because she'd never had a friend. Not a real one. (Emmett the stuffed rabbit didn't really count.) An instant family. Brothers and sisters for life. It made sense to her now. Jupiter carried himself like a king, like he was surrounded by an invisible bubble that protected him from all the bad things in life. He knew there were people in the world--somewhere out there--who loved him. Who would always love him. No matter what. That was what he was offering her.

Let's face it. You lost your wife when she decided it was more important to be Jessica Rabbit.

As his gaze rose to her face - he bit back a gasp. "Your hair, it's - " "Red." ... "You look stunning." ... "Did I ever tell you that when I was growing up, my favorite cartoon characters was Jessica Rabbit?" ... "You always had the curves, but now, with the hair..." He blew out an exaggerated Roger Rabbit whistle. "You're a spittin' image.

She had Jessica Rabbit's curves and full lips that made him wish he was a tube of ChapStick.

When you believe something about yourself for so long but then finally challenge it, everything feels different. I want to dance. I want to run. I feel like knocking on all the doors and shouting, “I am a REAL rabbit! I AM REAL!

She lit a new cigarette off the butt of an old one, just like you’d see any ordinary B-girl do in any ordinary juke joint on any ordinary night of the week, except, when Jessica did it, she made it seem extraordinary, as exotic and exciting as watching a jeweler cutting diamonds or a gunsmith engraving steel. She wrapped her lips seductively around the filter tip and sucked rhythmically, making her cigarette darken and glow, darken and glow in a pattern that spelled out temptation in her seductive private code.

There was Bonnie, the rabbit. His fur was a bright blue, his squared-off muzzle held a permanent smile, and his wide and chipped pink eyes were thick-lidded, giving him a perpetually worn-out expression. His ears stuck up straight, crinkling over at the top, and his large feet splayed out for balance. He held a red bass guitar, blue paws poised to play, and around his neck was a bow tie that matched the instrument’s fiery color. Chica the Chicken was more bulky and had an apprehensive look, thick black eyebrows arching over her purple eyes and her beak slightly open, revealing teeth, as she held out a cupcake on a platter. The cupcake itself was somewhat disturbing, with eyes set into its pink frosting and teeth hanging out over the cake, a single candle sticking out the top. “I always expected the cupcake to jump off the plate.” Carlton gave a half laugh and cautiously stepped up to Charlie’s side. “They seem taller than I remember,” he added in a whisper. “That’s because you never got this close as a kid.” Charlie smiled, at ease, and stepped closer. “You were busy hiding under tables,” Jessica said from behind them, still some distance away. Chica wore a bib around her neck with the words LET’S EAT! set out in purple and yellow against a confetti-covered background. A tuft of feathers stuck up in the middle of her head. Standing between Bonnie and Chica was Freddy Fazbear himself, namesake of the restaurant. He was the most genial looking of the three, seeming at ease where he was. A robust, if lean, brown bear, he smiled down at the audience, holding a microphone in one paw, sporting a black bow tie and top hat. The only incongruity in his features was the color of his eyes, a bright blue that surely no bear had ever had before him. His mouth hung open, and his eyes were partially closed, as though he had been frozen in song.

magazines wanted Jessica Rabbit—the animated character—not real women. Heck, even supermodels weren’t good enough anymore. Real women didn’t sell magazines. Unrealistic and unhealthy images of female beauty sold magazines.

Where do you think, Alice?” “Underhill?” “Very good, but wrong.” “Then where?” “Another planet, another time. It doesn’t matter much. I needed a location to foil pursuit. The water helped, now the sand will, too. More importantly, it gives me a breathing spot to decide what to do with an Alice.” “Stop that.” The starlight caught the curve of his lips, but she didn’t have to see him to hear the arrogance behind his soft mocking laugh. “Stop calling me Alice.” “Why? You’re a little girl who has fallen down the rabbit hole and the queen is coming to eat you up. The Black Queen, it is true, but she’s far more formidable than the Red one has ever been.

I’m focusing here on dogs because this is where almost all of the research and exposés lead us. But of course puppies aren’t the only pet animal being bred and brokered and sold for profit; they are just the most high profile. There are kitten mills, too. And rabbit mills. And the many other animals who we keep as pets—the rats, hamsters, and geckos—don’t just materialize out of thin air; they come from a mother somewhere, who has been intentionally bred so that humans can make a profit selling her babies (see chaps. 38, “Cradle to Grave,” and 39, “A Living Industry”).

For the year Jessica and I were together, we were as in love as two people can be. There was no faking how she felt about me. She couldn’t possibly have reversed herself so quickly.

Oh, Julia! Oh dear!” Mrs. Windham tottered down the stone pathway, holding scissors aloft. Beneath the crook of one elbow she clutched an oversized basket, and with her free hand, she clutched an apron full of clippings. Breathless, she reached over the wooden gate and unlatched it. Scatterings of rosemary and lavender fell about her feet, scenting the air. “Julia dear, what on earth? Tomorrow, tomorrow, not today. Depend upon you to come early. Oh, and I had such a lovely dinner of stewed pigeon planned, too. Now we shall have to eat rabbit pie and cold beef. Oh, it’s all been ruined.

See, if I’m bad—to quote the great Jessica Rabbit—it’s because I’m drawn that way.