Karl: The kites! The kites! Get 'em ready! He wants the kites!

Karl: Whataya say, pal, let's give ourselves up and let 'em hang us. This is no life for murderers.

The Monster: [about the Bride] She hates me.

The Monster: [realizes Dr. Pretorius isn't working] WOOORK!

The Monster: Alone: bad. Friend: good!

The Monster: I want friend like me.

The Monster: We belong dead!

Mary Shelley: It's a perfect night for mystery and horror. The air itself is filled with monsters.

[first lines]
Lord Byron: Prologue
[looking out the window at a thunderstorm]
Lord Byron: How beautifully dramatic! The cruelest savage exhibition of nature at her worst without.
[turns to face Mary and Percy Shelley, both seated]
Lord Byron: And we three. We elegant three within. I should like to think that an irate Jehovah was pointing those arrows of lightning directly at my head. The unbowed head of George Gordon, Lord Byron. England's greatest sinner. But I cannot flatter myself to that extent. Possibly those thunders are for our dear Shelley. Heavens applause for England's greatest poet.
Percy Shelley: What of my Mary?
Lord Byron: She's an angel.
Mary Shelley: You think so?

[repeated line]
The Monster: Friend, friend.