Boy #1: I hear she's an atheist.
Boy #2: What's that?
Boy #1: I don't know.

Roux: How's the door?
Vianne Rocher: It squeaks.
Roux: Does it?

Armande Voizin: [reading poetry to Luc] It's perfectly wretched, isn't it?
Luc Clairmont: Perfectly.

Caroline Clairmont: I suppose it can't be easy, having her gone.
Comte de Reynaud: I can't seem to get used to it, no matter how much time...
[forced cheerfulness]
Comte de Reynaud: But, I look forward to her return.
Caroline Clairmont: [gently] I don't believe anyone would think less of you if you were to say she was never coming back.

Yvette Marceau: Do you have more of those bean thingies, please?
Vianne Rocher: Oh, sure. Um... How many do you want?
Yvette Marceau: How many have you got?

Vianne Rocher: And these are for your husband. Unrefined cacao nips from Guatemala, to awaken the passions.
Yvette Marceau: Psshh. You've obviously never met my husband.
Vianne Rocher: Well, you've obviously never tried these.

Armande Voizin: I've got something for you boy. I've been carrying it around since your last birthday. It's a book of poetry.
Luc Clairmont: Oh. Thank you.
Armande Voizin: You don't like poetry?
Luc Clairmont: Oh no, no, of course. I do.
Armande Voizin: Neither do I. It's not that kind of poetry.

Armande Voizin: Your cinnamon looks rancid.
Vianne Rocher: It's not cinnamon, it's a special kind of chili pepper.
Armande Voizin: Chili pepper in hot chocolate?
Vianne Rocher: Mm-hm. It'll give you a lift.

[taking time to thoroughly taste the earthworm he has just eaten] Subtle... Zesty? Disgusting.


Vianne Rocher: I have two announcements. Number one, if you enjoyed what you ate here, you're going to love my chocolate festival on Sunday.
Armande Voizin: Advertise on your own time. What's for dessert?
Vianne Rocher: That brings me to number two. It is my duty to announce, that there is no dessert here tonight.
[guests sound disappointed]
Vianne Rocher: Because it's on Roux's boat.
[uncomfortable silence]
Armande Voizin: Any complaints, see me.

Vianne Rocher: Would you care to buy something special for your lady friend?
Guillaume Blerot: Lady friend?
Vianne Rocher: Yes, the lovely woman your dog was so fond of.
Guillaume Blerot: Oh, no, I mustn't. Madame Audel is in mourning for her husband.
Vianne Rocher: Oh. I'm sorry. When did he pass away?
Guillaume Blerot: The war. German grenade.
Vianne Rocher: Oh, I see. Well, it's been 15 years since the war, so...
Guillaume Blerot: No, not that war. Monsieur Audel was killed on the 12th January 1917. It was quite a blow to Mme Audel.
Vianne Rocher: Apparently so.

A new addition to the liturgy?

Comte de Reynaud

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