Blanche DuBois Character Analysis

They told me to take a street-car named Desire, and transfer to one called Cemeteries, and ride six blocks and get off at—Elysian Fields!

Stella, oh, Stella, Stella! Stella for Star!

Sit there and stare at me, thinking I let the place go? I let the place go? Where were you! In bed with your–Polack!

After all, a woman’s charm is fifty percent illusion.

Oh, I guess he’s just not the type that goes for jasmine perfume, but maybe he’s what we need to mix with our blood now that we’ve lost Belle Reve.

I can’t stand a naked light bulb, any more than I can a rude remark or a vulgar action.

What you are talking about is brutal desire–just–Desire!–the name of that rattle-trap street-car that bangs through the Quarter.

Don’t–don’t hang back with the brutes!

Young man! Young, young, young man! Has anyone ever told you that you look like a young Prince out of the Arabian Nights?

Sometimes–there’s God–so quickly!

It’s only a paper moon, Just as phony as it can be–But it wouldn’t be make-believe If you believed in me!

I told you already I don’t want none of his liquor and I mean it. You ought to lay off his liquor. He says you’ve been lapping it up all summer like a wild-cat!

I don’t want realism. I want magic!

Tiger–tiger! Drop the bottle-top! Drop it! We’ve had this date with each other from the beginning!

Please don’t get up. I’m only passing through.

You left nothing here but spilt talcum and old empty perfume bottles–unless it’s the paper lantern you want to take with you. You want the lantern?

Whoever you are—I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.

They told me to take a street-car named Desire, and transfer to one called Cemeteries, and ride six blocks and get off at—Elysian Fields!

Stella, oh, Stella, Stella! Stella for Star!

Sit there and stare at me, thinking I let the place go? I let the place go? Where were you! In bed with your–Polack!

After all, a woman’s charm is fifty percent illusion.

Oh, I guess he’s just not the type that goes for jasmine perfume, but maybe he’s what we need to mix with our blood now that we’ve lost Belle Reve.

I can’t stand a naked light bulb, any more than I can a rude remark or a vulgar action.

What you are talking about is brutal desire–just–Desire!–the name of that rattle-trap street-car that bangs through the Quarter.

Don’t–don’t hang back with the brutes!

Young man! Young, young, young man! Has anyone ever told you that you look like a young Prince out of the Arabian Nights?

Sometimes–there’s God–so quickly!

It’s only a paper moon, Just as phony as it can be–But it wouldn’t be make-believe If you believed in me!

I told you already I don’t want none of his liquor and I mean it. You ought to lay off his liquor. He says you’ve been lapping it up all summer like a wild-cat!

I don’t want realism. I want magic!

Tiger–tiger! Drop the bottle-top! Drop it! We’ve had this date with each other from the beginning!

Please don’t get up. I’m only passing through.

You left nothing here but spilt talcum and old empty perfume bottles–unless it’s the paper lantern you want to take with you. You want the lantern?

Whoever you are—I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.