I believe...I believe neither of us ever loved anybody but her in our whole lives, and my jealously I plotted her destruction. Now it is my only regret. So, I couldn't bear to live without her, but now I don't have long to live. So listen...she is in unspeakable danger. For once, prove yourself worthy of her love. Save her.


Cotton: If I enter Hell, you will spare the world your degradation?
Anne: Oh no, Husband! Let's not be greedy. Nothing can stop the plan my dark lord has for this world. You would save every life in Salem, even the life of your true love. What's her name...Harmonia? Desdemona?!
Cotton: Gloriana!
Anne: Don't you want to spare that pitiful whore an agonizing death?

Tituba: Anne Hale...I warned Mary Sibley about you long ago. I told her to drown you like a kitten in a well.
Anne: Well, lucky for you she didn't because I bring good news.

Mary: How did we come to be here right now? How is this possible?
John: I don't know, but I know Anne Hale is responsible. And I don't know whether to kill her or kiss her.
Mary: Well, she's not here right now. So...
[They kiss]
John: Do you remember what I told you? All those years ago, that vow I made...
Mary: You said you'd come back for me.
John: I told you.
Mary: You said you'd be back in a year. They say a point that some things are worth waiting for.

Anne: I know, dear Cotton, I know. Terrible. Awful. Evil incarnate. You've opened my eyes, dear husband. I was the perfect wife and yet you still preferred the company of a whore. Well, the pain you caused me set me free from all my slavish craving for the world's approval.
Cotton: Anne, whatever your hatred for me do not let that be hatred for all the people of Salem. Minutes they will all die, but there may yet still be time. Please...please let me out of here before it is too late.
Anne: Oh, you may yet save Salem, dear Cotton. You and I both know what a dissolute weakling you really are. But when I release you, you will have the chance to be that great man everyone believes you to be.

Cotton: What has happened to you?
Mary: I don't know. I don't know, I don't know, I don't know. Perhaps killing him took what life I had left? Perhaps I returned to the grave they took me from? But I shall not go until I am sure. He calls to me. Do you hear him?! He talks to me. My monster. My son...my son.

Anne: Yes. Of course, that is what we women are to you -- a good woman is a half-doll-half-angel and a bad woman is but a hideous fiend. Well I will not be your angel doll a second longer, even if I could. I would rather be a fiend...a great fiend!
[Magically throws sewing needle]
Anne: You shameless hypocrite! You...who persecuted and executed so many innocents. You...who murdered your own father. You...who sang the worst sin of all is a lie. And your entire life is a lie! Every time you climbed the pulpit after a night of drunken debauchery, you lied to everyone, or is lying merely another privilege reserved for men?!

Mary: You would damn generations to hell on earth because of your own bitter heart?!
Anne: You are absolutely right, I would. Happily. I would turn the earth into a bitter desert in the very image of my heart!

Mary: The most fatal error, my treacherous sister -- placing your trust in the dark lord...and this mangy mouter.
[Snaps the cat's neck]
Tituba: Blind me if you will. I can track and kill you in the darkest night!

The Sentinel: Perhaps you're right; I should know more about humanity. But truth be told, my head aches.
Cotton: That's called a hangover. What you need is a hair of the hound that bit you.
The Sentinel: No hound bit me, and I don't eat hounds or their hair.
Cotton: Well, it's an expression. A metaphor. You see, another thing you don't understand about us is that we often times say one thing to mean another. We use nonsense to make sense.
The Sentinel: You're right, I don't understand and you're making my headache worse.

Marriage. Marriage is an honorable estate not entered into lightly. Soberly, in the fear of God. Lovers...lovers may be lunatics, and lovers may be beyond the reach of reason and law. True lovers...true lovers do not desire only love. They desire...they desire marriage. For if their love is the truest and noblest love conceivable, those lovers are only relieved by both being happy slaves to one another. You may now kiss the bride.


Thomas: Could I offer you food or a drink?
The Sentinel: I have no taste for food but drink, I like. It briefly restores loss of wings.
Thomas: Try this.
[They drink]
The Sentinel: [Gasps]
Thomas: Gin.
The Sentinel: It burns...I like it.

WGN America Quotes

Anne: My love for you rules all that I do.
Cotton: If this is your love, I hope never to see your hate.

Remember dear ones, to the Reaper, all flesh is grass...even witch flesh. A great terror will soon fall upon Salem and there is not a soul alive upon this dull earth who can stop me.

Dark Lord