Armande Voizin: Sure you didn't put booze in that?
Vianne Rocher: Something better.
Armande Voizin: Perhaps you should give it to my daughter. Melt that chilly disposition of hers.
Vianne Rocher: Things could be different for you, Josephine. Serge doesn't rule the world.
Josephine: He might as well.
Vianne Rocher: Is that what you believe?
Josephine: I know it.
Vianne Rocher: Oh, well, then it... it must be true. My mistake.
Armande Voizin: I was out all night with him. We swam naked in the Tannes. At dawn, when I returned to my house, in my bed, my mother poked her head in and said, "Wake up sleepyhead." She had no idea I'd been gone.
Armande Voizin: She won't let me see my grandson. I'm cut off from him.
Vianne Rocher: Why is that? Armande, why is that?
Armande Voizin: Oh, I'm a bad influence. 'Cause I don't like her treating him like a trained poodle. I swear, that boy doesn't piss without her permission.
Serge: Jack of hearts is a better hunter than you, eh? Shoots the trump from right out under your nose.
Comte de Reynaud: Shameless, isn't it? The sheer nerve of the woman. Opening a chocolaterie just in time for Lent. The woman is brazen!
Roux: Well, then, what do you want? Are you here to save us? Are you the Catholic Aid Society? French Family League? Communist Workers? Which idea are you selling?
Anouk Rocher: Chocolate!
Josephine: He talks about you. He says you're indecent. He says you're an influence. You're a bad influence for someone like me.
Armande Voizin: "Will she never have done, then, That ghoul queen of a million dead bodies? I see myself again, skin rotten with mud and pest, Worms in my armpits and in my hair." It's perfectly wretched, isn't it?
Luc Clairmont: Perfectly.
Roux: We river rats are the dregs of society. With horrible diseases and criminal impulses.
Armande Voizin: If you want to blame someone, blame me. Corrupting him with cocoa.
Vianne Rocher: Don't you ever think about belonging somewhere?
Roux: The price is too high. You end up caring what people expect of you.
Père Henri: Satan wears many guises. At times, Satan is the singer of a lurid song you hear on the radio. At times, the author of a salacious novel. At times, the quiet man lurking in the schoolyard - asking your children if he might join their game. And at times, the maker of sweet things. Mere trifles. For what could seem more harmless, more innocent, than chocolate?
Vianne Rocher: Armande, why didn't you tell me?
Armande Voizin: Is this a chocolaterie or is it a confessional? Don't you dare pity me.
Armande Voizin: For God's sake, don't fuss. You'll ruin a perfectly decadent evening.
