Through the Looking Glass by Lewis Carroll Voice Over Script
‘O Tiger-lily,’ said Alice, addressing herself to one that was waving
gracefully about in the wind, ‘I WISH you could talk!’
‘We CAN talk,’ said the Tiger-lily: ‘when there’s anybody worth talking
to.’
Alice was so astonished that she could not speak for a minute: it quite
seemed to take her breath away. At length, as the Tiger-lily only went
on waving about, she spoke again, in a timid voice–almost in a whisper.
‘And can ALL the flowers talk?’
‘As well as YOU can,’ said the Tiger-lily. ‘And a great deal louder.’
‘It isn’t manners for us to begin, you know,’ said the Rose, ‘and I
really was wondering when you’d speak! Said I to myself, “Her face has
got SOME sense in it, though it’s not a clever one!” Still, you’re the
right colour, and that goes a long way.’
‘I don’t care about the colour,’ the Tiger-lily remarked. ‘If only her
petals curled up a little more, she’d be all right.’
Alice didn’t like being criticised, so she began asking questions.
‘Aren’t you sometimes frightened at being planted out here, with nobody
to take care of you?’
‘There’s the tree in the middle,’ said the Rose: ‘what else is it good
for?’
‘But what could it do, if any danger came?’ Alice asked.
‘It says “Bough-wough!”‘ cried a Daisy: ‘that’s why its branches are
called boughs!’
‘Didn’t you know THAT?’ cried another Daisy, and here they all began
shouting together, till the air seemed quite full of little shrill
voices. ‘Silence, every one of you!’ cried the Tiger-lily, waving itself
passionately from side to side, and trembling with excitement. ‘They
know I can’t get at them!’ it panted, bending its quivering head towards
Alice, ‘or they wouldn’t dare to do it!’
‘Never mind!’ Alice said in a soothing tone, and stooping down to the
daisies, who were just beginning again, she whispered, ‘If you don’t
hold your tongues, I’ll pick you!’
There was silence in a moment, and several of the pink daisies turned
white.
‘That’s right!’ said the Tiger-lily. ‘The daisies are worst of all. When
one speaks, they all begin together, and it’s enough to make one wither
to hear the way they go on!’
‘How is it you can all talk so nicely?’ Alice said, hoping to get it
into a better temper by a compliment. ‘I’ve been in many gardens before,
but none of the flowers could talk.’
‘Put your hand down, and feel the ground,’ said the Tiger-lily. ‘Then
you’ll know why.’
Alice did so. ‘It’s very hard,’ she said, ‘but I don’t see what that has
to do with it.’
‘In most gardens,’ the Tiger-lily said, ‘they make the beds too soft–so
that the flowers are always asleep.’
This sounded a very good reason, and Alice was quite pleased to know it.
‘I never thought of that before!’ she said.
‘It’s MY opinion that you never think AT ALL,’ the Rose said in a rather
severe tone.
‘I never saw anybody that looked stupider,’ a Violet said, so suddenly,
that Alice quite jumped; for it hadn’t spoken before.
‘Hold YOUR tongue!’ cried the Tiger-lily. ‘As if YOU ever saw anybody!
You keep your head under the leaves, and snore away there, till you know
no more what’s going on in the world, than if you were a bud!’
TOP-10 Scripts from Edge Studio's Voice Over Script Library
[Skyrim opens with an Imperial wagon driving four prisoners down a snowy mountain pass. All are seated and bound; the one dressed in finery is gagged.]
Ralof: Hey, you. You’re finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there.
Lokir: D**n you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn’t been looking for you, I could’ve stolen that horse and been half way to Hammerfell. You there. You and me — we should be here. It’s these Stormcloaks the Empire wants.
Ralof: We’re all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief.
Imperial Soldier: Shut up back there!
[Lokir looks at the gagged man.]
Lokir: And what’s wrong with him?
Ralof: Watch your tongue! You’re speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King.
Lokir: Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You’re the leader of the rebellion. But if they captured you… Oh gods, where are they taking us?
Ralof: I don’t know where we’re going, but Sovngarde awaits.
Lokir: No, this can’t be happening. This isn’t happening.
Ralof: Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?
Lokir: Why do you care?
Ralof: A Nord’s last thoughts should be of home.
Lokir: Rorikstead. I’m…I’m from Rorikstead.
[They approach the village of Helgen. A soldier calls out to the lead wagon.]
Imperial Soldier: General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!
General Tullius: Good. Let’s get this over with.
Lokir: Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me.
Ralof: Look at him, General Tullius the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. D**n elves. I bet they had something to do with this. This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in. Funny…when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe.
[A man and son watch the prisoners pull into town.]
Haming: Who are they, daddy? Where are they going?
Torolf: You need to go inside, little cub.
Haming: Why? I want to watch the soldiers.
Torolf: Inside the house. Now.
Galadriel: (speaking partly in Elvish)
(I amar prestar aen.)
The world is changed.
(Han matho ne nen.)
I feel it in the water.
(Han mathon ned cae.)
I feel it in the earth.
(A han noston ned gwilith.)
I smell it in the air.
Much that once was is lost, for none now live who remember it.
It began with the forging of the Great Rings. Three were given to the Elves, immortal, wisest and fairest of all beings. Seven to the Dwarf-Lords, great miners and craftsmen of the mountain halls. And nine, nine rings were gifted to the race of Men, who above all else desire power. For within these rings was bound the strength and the will to govern each race. But they were all of them deceived, for another ring was made. Deep in the land of Mordor, in the Fires of Mount Doom, the Dark Lord Sauron forged a master ring, and into this ring he poured his cruelty, his malice and his will to dominate all life.
One ring to rule them all.
One by one, the free lands of Middle-Earth fell to the power of the Ring, but there were some who resisted. A last alliance of men and elves marched against the armies of Mordor, and on the very slopes of Mount Doom, they fought for the freedom of Middle-Earth. Victory was near, but the power of the ring could not be undone. It was in this moment, when all hope had faded, that Isildur, son of the king, took up his father’s sword.
Sauron, enemy of the free peoples of Middle-Earth, was defeated. The Ring passed to Isildur, who had this one chance to destroy evil forever, but the hearts of men are easily corrupted. And the ring of power has a will of its own. It betrayed Isildur, to his death.
And some things that should not have been forgotten were lost. History became legend. Legend became myth. And for two and a half thousand years, the ring passed out of all knowledge. Until, when chance came, it ensnared another bearer.
It came to the creature Gollum, who took it deep into the tunnels of the Misty Mountains. And there it consumed him. The ring gave to Gollum unnatural long life. For five hundred years it poisoned his mind, and in the gloom of Gollum’s cave, it waited. Darkness crept back into the forests of the world. Rumor grew of a shadow in the East, whispers of a nameless fear, and the Ring of Power perceived its time had come. It abandoned Gollum, but then something happened that the Ring did not intend. It was picked up by the most unlikely creature imaginable: a hobbit, Bilbo Baggins, of the Shire.
For the time will soon come when hobbits will shape the fortunes of all.
To sit in solemn silence in a dull, dark, dock,
In a pestilential prison, with a life-long lock,
Awaiting the sensation of a short, sharp, shock,
From a cheap and chippy chopper on a big black block!
Do I really look like a guy with a plan, Harvey?
I don’t have a plan …
The mob has plans. The cops have plans.
You know what I am, Harvey? I am a dog chasing cars… I wouldn’t know what to do with one if I caught it.
I just do things. I am just the wrench in the gears. I hate plans.
Yours, theirs, everyone’s. Maroni has plans. Gordon has plans.
Schemers trying to control their worlds.
I am not a schemer. I show the schemer how pathetic their attempts to control things really are.
So when I say that you and your girlfriend was nothing personal, you know I am telling the truth.
I just did what I do best. I took your plan and turned it on itself.
Look what I have done to this city with a few drums of gas and a couple of bullets.
Nobody panics when the expected people gets killed. Nobody panics when things go according to plan, even if the plan is horrifying.
If I tell the press that tomorrow a gangbanger will get shot or a truckload of soldiers will be blown up, nobody panics. – because it’s all part of the plan.
But when I say that one little old mayor will die, everybody lose their minds.
Introduce a little anarchy, you upset the established order and everything becomes chaos.
I am agent of chaos.
And you know the thing about chaos Harvey?
“IT is FAIR.”
Hello, ladies, look at your man, now back to me, now back at your man, now back to me. Sadly, he isn’t me, but if he stopped using ladies scented body wash and switched to Old Spice, he could smell like he’s me. Look down, back up, where are you? You’re on a boat with the man your man could smell like. What’s in your hand, back at me. I have it, it’s an oyster with two tickets to that thing you love. Look again, the tickets are now diamonds. Anything is possible when your man smells like Old Spice and not a lady. I’m on a horse.
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