Chocolat

Chocolat Quotes

A woman and her daughter open a chocolate shop in a small French village that shakes up the rigid morality of the community.

Père Henri: I'm not sure what the theme of my homily today ought to be. Do I want to speak of the miracle of Our Lord's divine transformation? Not really, no. I don't want to talk about His divinity. I'd rather talk about His humanity. I mean, you know, how He lived His life, here on Earth. His *kindness*, His *tolerance*... Listen, here's what I think. I think that we can't go around... measuring our goodness by what we don't do. By what we deny ourselves, what we resist, and who we exclude. I think... we've got to measure goodness by what we *embrace*, what we create... and who we include.
Serge: We are still married, in the eyes of God.
Josephine: Then He must be blind.
Luc Clairmont: Happy birthday, Grandmama.
Armande Voizin: The invitation said five o'clock.
Luc Clairmont: I should have read it more closely.
Armande Voizin: If you had, you would know there were supposed to be no gifts.
Luc Clairmont: Don't worry so much about supposed to.
Armande Voizin: [entering the new chocolate shop] What's the décor, early Mexican brothel?
Vianne Rocher: What do you see in it?
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: Hmm. I've got just the thing for you.
Roux: I thought you'd never guess. My favourite - hot chocolate.
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.
Comte de Reynaud: Rumor has it you are harbouring Madame Muscat. Is that true?
Vianne Rocher: You make her sound like a fugitive.
Comte de Reynaud: She *is* a fugitive. From her marriage vows, which have been sanctified by God.
Vianne Rocher: Joséphine? Come out here a minute. Let His Radiance have a look at you, hm?
[shows the Comte the ugly bruise on Joséphine's forehead]
Vianne Rocher: Is that sanctified enough for you? It's not the first time.
Comte de Reynaud: I am truly sorry. You should have come to me. Your husband will be made to repent for this.
Josephine: Tell him to repent on someone else's head.
[first lines]
Storyteller: Once upon a time, there was a quiet little village in the French countryside, whose people believed in Tranquilité - Tranquility.
[Sunday morning congregation sings]
Storyteller: If you lived in this village, you understood what was expected of you. You knew your place in the scheme of things. And if you happened to forget, someone would help remind you.
[wife kicks sleeping husband in pew]
Father Henri: The season of Lent is upon us. This is of course a time of abstinence. Hopefully also it's a time of reflection. Above all let this be for us a time... a time of sincere penitence. It is a time to stand up and be counted...
Storyteller: In this village, if you saw something you weren't supposed to see, you learned to look the other way. If perchance your hopes had been disappointed, you learned never to ask for more. So, through good times and bad, famine and feast, the villagers held fast to their traditions. Until, one winter day, a sly wind blew in from the North...
Roux: Very good... but not my favorite.
Roux: How's the door?
Vianne Rocher: It squeaks.
Roux: Does it?
Comte de Reynaud: Let me try to put this into perspective for you. The first Comte de Reynaud expelled all the radical Huguenots in this village. You and your truffles present a far lesser challenge.
Josephine: You don't misbehave here. It's just not done, did you know that? If you don't go to confession, if you don't... dig your flowerbeds, or if you don't pretend, if you don't pretend... that you want nothing more in your life than to serve your husband three meals a day, and give him children, and vacuum under his ass, then... then you're... then you're crazy.
[Père Henri is singing "Hound Dog" while sweeping snow from the courtyard]
Comte de Reynaud: A new addition to the liturgy?
Vianne Rocher: [to the Comte de Reynaud] Ah, good morning. Can I interest you in some nipples of Venus?
Boy #1: I hear she's an atheist.
Boy #2: What's that?
Boy #1: I don't know.
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.
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: Things could be different for you, Josephine. Serge doesn't run the world.
Josephine: He might as well.
Vianne Rocher: Is that what you believe?
Josephine: I know it.
Vianne Rocher: Oh. Well, then it must be... must be true. My mistake.
Roux: I should probably warn ya: you make friends with us, you make enemies with everyone else.
Vianne Rocher: Is that a promise?
Roux: It's a guarantee.
Roux: I'll come 'round sometime and get that squeak out of your door.
[Anouk has come home from school upset]
Vianne Rocher: Anouk, just tell me what happened.
Anouk Rocher: Are you Satan's helper?
Vianne Rocher: Well, it... it's not easy, being different.
Anouk Rocher: Why can't we go to church?
Vianne Rocher: Well, you can if you want... but it won't make things easier.
Anouk Rocher: Why can't you wear black shoes like the other mothers?
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.
Roux: How does Anouk feel about it?
Vianne Rocher: What?
Roux: All the moving around.
Vianne Rocher: Oh, she's fine. She handles it beautifully, she makes friends easily, she's such an unusual...
[looks at Roux]
Vianne Rocher: She hates it.
[on the verge of tears]
Vianne Rocher: She hates it.
[Roux draws closer and kisses her]
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.
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.
Storyteller: Even the Comte de Reynaud felt strangely... released. Although it would take another six months for him to work up the courage to ask Caroline out to dinner.
Roux: [taking time to thoroughly taste the earthworm he has just eaten] Subtle... Zesty? Disgusting.
Luc Clairmont: Grandmother, bonjour.
Armande Voizin: I, um... would you like a cup of, uh...
Luc Clairmont: No, no thank you. I'm just here to, uh... do a portrait.
Armande Voizin: Whose?
Vianne Rocher: Yours, actually. Is the light okay where she's sitting?
Josephine: [hitting her husband over the head with a cooking pan] Who says I can't use a skillet?
Armande Voizin: Your cinnamon looks rancid.
Vianne Rocher: Well, it's not cinnamon, it's a special kind of chili pepper.
Armande Voizin: Chili pepper in hot chocolate? Psh.
Vianne Rocher: Mm-hm. It'll give you a lift.
Roux: [referring to the broken glass on her door] You know I can fix that if you like. Not with glass, but I can make a nice strong one out of wood.
Vianne Rocher: That's nice of you, but I insist on paying you for your work.
Roux: Well, that makes two of us then.
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.
Storyteller: But still the clever north wind was not satisfied. It spoke to Vianne of towns yet to be visited, friends in need yet to be discovered, battles yet to be fought...
[Vianne throws her mother's ashes to the wind]
Storyteller: ...By someone else, next time.
Francoise 'Fuffi' Drou: I heard she was some kind of radical.
Vianne Rocher: Would you care...
[clears throat]
Vianne Rocher: ... would you care to buy something special for your lady friend?
Guillaume Blerot: Lady friend?
Vianne Rocher: Mm-hmm, the lovely woman your dog was so fond of.
Guillaume Blerot: [smiles] Oh.
Vianne Rocher: Her favorite is chocolate seashells, that's my guess.
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 surely...
Guillaume Blerot: No, not that war. Monsieur Audel was killed on January the 12th, 1917. It was quite a blow to Madame Audel.
Vianne Rocher: Apparently so.
Armande Voizin: [reading poetry to Luc] It's perfectly wretched, isn't it?
Luc Clairmont: Perfectly.
Francoise 'Fuffi' Drou: How is the Comtesse enjoying Italy?
Comte de Reynaud: She may be extending her trip.
Francoise 'Fuffi' Drou: Ah... Very nice.
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.
[last lines]
Vianne Rocher: As for Badouff, his leg miraculously healed, and he hopped off in search of new adventures. I didn't miss him.
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.
School Boy: My mother says you don't have a father.
Anouk Rocher: Sure I do, we just don't know who he is.
Comte de Reynaud: [forcing Serge into the confessional] He is ready.
Père Henri: But confession must be made in the spirit of contrition.
Comte de Reynaud: [pulling open the curtain] You, have you come in the spirit of contrition?
Serge: Contrition... yes contrition,
Comte de Reynaud: [shutting curtain] He is ready.

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