- Offred: A perfect gift. A girl trapped in a box. She only dances when someone else opens the lid, when someone else winds her up. If this is a story I'm telling, I must be telling it to someone. There's always someone, even when there is no one. I will not be that girl in the box.
- Commander Guthrie: It's not rocket science. All remaining fertile women should be collected and impregnated. By those of superior status, of course.
- Andrew Pryce: You're talking about concubines!
- Commander Guthrie: I don't care what you want to call it.
- Fred Waterford: The wives would never accept it.
- Commander Guthrie: That's a non-issue.
- Fred Waterford: We won't succeed without their support. You know that.
- Andrew Pryce: Maybe the wife should be there. For the act. It would be less of a violation. There is scriptural precedent.
- Fred Waterford: "Act" may not be the best name. From a branding perspective. The Ceremony?
- Commander Guthrie: Sounds good. Nice and godly. The wives'd eat that shit up.
- Offred: Is this enough for you, this bullshit life? Is this what you want? You want to polish his car and... once in a while, try to get a handmaid pregnant? Is that enough for you?
- Nick Blaine: We're being stupid. You know we're being stupid. It's too dangerous.
- Offred: No, it isn't.
- Nick Blaine: You could end up on the wall.
- Offred: But at least... at least someone will remember me. In this place. At least someone will care when I'm gone. That's something. That is something.
- [first lines]
- Offred: Luke is alive. I stretch out my arms to him, but he slips away, like a ghost at daybreak. And I am left. Here. I wish this story were different. I wish it showed me in a better light. In a different story, maybe I wouldn't be such a fucking weakling.
- Fred Waterford: This is the back entrance - can't exactly use the front door.
- [sotto voce]
- Fred Waterford: You're contraband.
- Moira Strand: After they finished their questions, they gave me a choice: the Colonies or Jezebel's. It's a few good years before your pussy wears out. All the booze and drugs you want, feels good. We only work nights...
- Offred: We're gonna find a way to get you out of here, okay?
- Moira Strand: June. I know the way out: black van, feet first.
- Fred Waterford: You're very quiet. Aren't you enjoying yourself?
- Offred: It's just so beautiful, and I don't usually get to see it like this.
- Fred Waterford: Ah, but tonight... you aren't you.
- Nick Blaine: Hey. Wait, wait, wait.
- Offred: What?
- Nick Blaine: My name is Nick Blaine. I'm from Michigan.
- Offred: Well, under His eye, Guardian Blaine.
- Fred Waterford: Davidson's such a kiss-ass. He's that way with Pryce, too: goes where the wind blows - I can't trust him. We've been hearing things from the other districts. Purges. Could just be rumors, I don't know. No one's made a move yet here, but I can't help feeling there's a target on my back.
- Offred: I suppose that's what happens when you're the boss.
- Fred Waterford: [nods] You do understand me, don't you.
- Fred Waterford: It's like walking in the past, don't you think?
- Offred: I thought these kinds of places were forbidden.
- Fred Waterford: Mm. Officially.
- Offred: Unofficially?
- Fred Waterford: Oh, we turn a blind eye. Everyone's human, after all. Now, let's get you a drink. One won't hurt. Wouldn't look right if you didn't.
- Fred Waterford: Up for some excitement? I thought maybe we could do something different tonight.
- Offred: Monopoly?
- Fred Waterford: No guessing. But first, we're gonna have to do something about those legs.