[first sermon, written by Comte de Reynaud] Satan wears many guises. At times, he is the singer of a lurid song you hear on the radio. At times, the author of a salacious novel. The quiet man 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?
[Easter service, improvised] 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.
[to Vianne] 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.
[after knocking her abusive husband Serge unconscious with a skillet] Who says I can't use a skillet?
Storyteller: [first lines] Once upon a time, there was a quiet little village in the French countryside, whose people believed in Tranquilité - Tranquility. 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. 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...
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] By someone else, next time.
Comte de Reynaud: [to Vianne] 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.
Roux: I should probably warn ya: you make friends with us, you make enemies with everyone else.
Vianne: Is that a promise?
Roux: It's a guarantee.
Vianne: Things could be different for you, Josephine. Serge doesn't run the world.
Josephine: He might as well.
Vianne: Is that what you believe?
Josephine: I know it.
Vianne: Oh. Well, then it must be... must be true. My mistake.
Reynaud: Rumor has it you are harbouring Madame Muscat. Is that true?
Vianne: You make her sound like a fugitive.
Reynaud: She is a fugitive. From her marriage vows, which have been sanctified by God.
Vianne: 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] Is that sanctified enough for you? It's not the first time.
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.
Serge: We are still married, in the eyes of God.
Josephine: Then He must be blind.
Luct: Happy birthday, Grandmama.
Armande: The invitation said five o'clock.
Luc: I should have read it more closely.
Armande: If you had you would know there were supposed to be no gifts.
Luc: Don't worry so much about supposed to.
Vianne: I have two announcements. Number one, if you enjoyed what you ate here, you're going to love my chocolate festival on Sunday.
Armande: Advertise on your own time. What's for dessert?
Vianne: That brings me to number two. It is my duty to announce, that there is no dessert here tonight. [guests sound disappointed] Because it's on Roux's boat.
Armande: Any complaints, see me.
Vianne: And these are for your husband. Unrefined cacao nips from Guatemala, to awaken the passions.
Yvette: Psshh. You've obviously never met my husband.
Vianne: Well, you've obviously never tried these.
Luc: [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: ...And it melts, God forgive me, it melts ever so slowly on your tongue, and tortures you with pleasure.
Reynaud: [after Serge admits he started the fire] People could have died. Do you want there blood on your hands? On my hands?
Serge: Should I go to Père Henri and ask for forgiveness?
Reynaud: [calmly] Listen to me Serge. Listen very carefully. You must leave this village at once and never return.
Serge: Why would I leave my home and my café?
Reynaud: [shouting] Because I'm evicting you, that's why! What you have done puts you beyond anyone's help! Beyond my help, anybody's help! Now get out! Unless you will tell the police what you have done, get out! GET OUT GET OUT!