Quills Quotes
In a Napoleonic era insane asylum, an inmate, the irrepressible Marquis De Sade, fights a battle of wills against a tyrannically prudish doctor.
Coulmier: It's not even a proper novel. It's nothing but an encyclopedia of perversions. Frankly, it even fails as an exercise in craft. The characters are wooden, the diologue is inane. Not to mention the repetition of words like "nipple" and "pikestaff".
Marquis de Sade: There I was taxed; it's true.
Coulmier: And such puny scope. Nothing but the worst in man's nature.
Marquis de Sade: I write of the great, eternal truths that bind together all mankind. The whole world over, we eat, we shit, we fuck, we kill and we die.
Coulmier: But we also fall in love, we build cities, we compose symphonies, and we endure. Why not put that in your books as well.
Marquis de Sade: There I was taxed; it's true.
Coulmier: And such puny scope. Nothing but the worst in man's nature.
Marquis de Sade: I write of the great, eternal truths that bind together all mankind. The whole world over, we eat, we shit, we fuck, we kill and we die.
Coulmier: But we also fall in love, we build cities, we compose symphonies, and we endure. Why not put that in your books as well.
The Marquis de Sade: I have a proposition.
Coulmier: You always do.
The Marquis de Sade: Madeleine. She's besotted with me. She'd do anything I asked. She could pay you a visit.
Coulmier: I don't know who you insult more, her or me.
The Marquis de Sade: Part the gates of heaven, as it were.
Coulmier: That's enough!
The Marquis de Sade: You're too tense, darling. You could do with a long, slow screw.
Coulmier: Good night, Marquis.
[walks out the room]
The Marquis de Sade: [shouts] Then bugger me! Goddamn you, Abbe! Have you no true sense of my condition? Of its gravity? My writing is involuntary, like the beating of my heart. My constant erection!
Coulmier: You always do.
The Marquis de Sade: Madeleine. She's besotted with me. She'd do anything I asked. She could pay you a visit.
Coulmier: I don't know who you insult more, her or me.
The Marquis de Sade: Part the gates of heaven, as it were.
Coulmier: That's enough!
The Marquis de Sade: You're too tense, darling. You could do with a long, slow screw.
Coulmier: Good night, Marquis.
[walks out the room]
The Marquis de Sade: [shouts] Then bugger me! Goddamn you, Abbe! Have you no true sense of my condition? Of its gravity? My writing is involuntary, like the beating of my heart. My constant erection!
Madeleine: [reading from a page] His greast conquest was a woman six decades his senior, and a dozen years deceased. He made love with such vigor that it dislodged her bones, and yet he afforded her the highest compliment he afforded any woman.
[long, suspenseful pause]
Madame LeClerc: Well, go on!
Madeleine: "Well worth the dig!"
[long, suspenseful pause]
Madame LeClerc: Well, go on!
Madeleine: "Well worth the dig!"
Madeleine: Your publisher says I'm not to leave without another manuscript.
Marquis de Sade: I've just the story. It's the unhappy tale... of a virginal laundry lass. The darling of the lower wards where they entomb the criminally insane.
Madeleine: Is it awfully violent?
Marquis de Sade: Most assuredly.
Madeleine: Is it terribly erotic?
Marquis de Sade: Fiendishly so. But it comes with a price. A kiss for each page.
Marquis de Sade: I've just the story. It's the unhappy tale... of a virginal laundry lass. The darling of the lower wards where they entomb the criminally insane.
Madeleine: Is it awfully violent?
Marquis de Sade: Most assuredly.
Madeleine: Is it terribly erotic?
Marquis de Sade: Fiendishly so. But it comes with a price. A kiss for each page.
Prouix, the Architect: Madame, how could you... have you actually read this volume?
Simone: I've memorized it. Would you like me to recite?
Prouix, the Architect: There comes a time in a young lady's life when she has to cast book's aside, and learn from experience.
Simone: That, Monsieur, requires a teacher.
Simone: I've memorized it. Would you like me to recite?
Prouix, the Architect: There comes a time in a young lady's life when she has to cast book's aside, and learn from experience.
Simone: That, Monsieur, requires a teacher.
Marquis de Sade: [voiceover, as Coulmier writes] Beloved reader, I leave you now with a tale penned by the Abbe du Coulmier, a man who found freedom, in the most unlikeliest of places: at the bottom of an inkwell, on the tip of a quill. However, be forewarned, it's plot is blood-soaked, it's characters depraved, and it's themes... unwholesome at best. But in order to know virtue, we must acquaint ourselves with vice. Only then can we know the full measure of man. So come... I Dare you... Turn the page...
Marquis de Sade: This is a rare vintage from an obscure village in Bordeaux. Rather than crush the grape underfoot, they place the fruit on the belly of a bride, and reap its juices when the young husband steers his vessel into port. Full-bodied flavor, with just a hint of wantonness. Bottoms up.
Coulmier: It's from our own cellar. I recognize the taste.
Marquis de Sade: I should have told you it was the blood of Christ. You'd believe that, wouldn't you?
Coulmier: It's from our own cellar. I recognize the taste.
Marquis de Sade: I should have told you it was the blood of Christ. You'd believe that, wouldn't you?
