Irma La Douce: A painter once lived here. Poor guy, he was starving. Tried everything, even cut his ear off.
Nestor Patou: Van Gogh?
Irma La Douce: No, I think his name was Schwartz.
Moustache: To be overly honest in a dishonest world is like plucking a chicken against the wind... you'll only wind up with a mouth full of feathers.
Irma La Douce: Who wants to be a stray dog? You got to belong to someone, even if he kicks you once in a while.
Nestor Patou: Why don't we just tell him the truth?
Moustache: The truth? That's dynamite.
Nestor Patou: But I'm innocent.
Moustache: The jails are full with innocent people because they told the truth.
Moustache: But that's another story.
Moustache: Life is total war my friend... nobody has a right to be a conscientious objector.
Irma La Douce: This is not just a job, it's a profession.
Nestor Patou: Now I'm mad. Now I'm really mad. And when I'm mad, I'm like a tiger.
Irma La Douce: You oughta be ashamed of yourself, scaring a poor little dog like that.
Nestor Patou: They oughta take that dog away from you, you're not a fit mother.
Moustache: It's a hard way to earn an easy living.
