Luc Clairmont: [at confession] Each time I tell myself it's the last time, but then I get a whiff of her hot chocolate, or...
Madame Audel: ...Seashells. Chocolate seashells, so small, so plain, so *innocent*. I thought, oh, just one little taste, it can't do any harm. But it turned out they were filled with rich, sinful...
Yvette Marceau: ...And it *melts*, God forgive me, it melts ever so slowly on your tongue, and tortures you with pleasure.
Père Henri: [hearing confession] What else?
Guillaume Blerot: Impure thoughts. The woman who runs the chocolaterie...
Père Henri: Vianne Rocher?
Guillaume Blerot: She suggested I buy chocolate sea shells for the widow Audel. And, well... I guess that got me to thinking, about the widow Audel.
Père Henri: At her age? At *your* age?
Guillaume Blerot: Yes, and yes.
Vianne Rocher: What do you see?
Armande Voizin: Not a damned thing.
Vianne Rocher: Come on, it's a game. What do you see?
Armande Voizin: I see a cranky old woman too tired to play games.
Vianne Rocher: Oh. I've got just the thing for you.
Serge: We are still married, in the eyes of God.
Josephine: Then He must be blind.