Camilla: Some women, Annabelle, are born great: Cleopatra, the queen, me. Some become great, like Mother Teresa or Lady Gaga. Others have greatness thrust upon them, like Monica Lewinsky.
Roxy: Don't you think this whole idea is a wee bit unfeasible?
Annabelle Fritton: This is St. Trinian's. We don't know the meaning of the word "unfeasible."
Chelsea: That's true.
Lucy: Hah! In your face! In your face! Face of a supermodel. Brain of a super noodle.
Chelsea: Lucy! Do you really think I look like a supermodel?
Chelsea: And, therefore, Lucy will always be a virgin.
Lucy: What? As opposed to a brainless slapper, you mean. Seriously, she'd snog a melon if you drew a mouth on it.
Bella: That's not fair! It was a grapefruit, actually, and it was years ago.
Chelsea: Bella! That was a secret.
Zoe: There's no reason to be scared of death. 'Cause death is, you know, like life, but all of the crap gets taken out. Like poverty and fascism and Miley Cyrus.
