Coulmier: Murderer... Your words... your words drove Bouchon.
Marquis de Sade: Oh, for fuck's sake, Abbe! Suppose one of your precious inmates attempted to walk on water and drowned. Would you condemn the Bible? I think not.
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?
Marquis de Sade: Conversation, like certain portions of the anatomy, always runs more smoothly when lubricated.
Marquis de Sade: You've already stolen my heart... as well as another more prominent organ, south of the Equator.
Madeleine: If I wasn't such a bad woman on the page, I couldn't be such a good woman in life.
Coulmier: Listen to me Abbe and listen well. I've stared into the face of evil and I've lived to tell the tale and now, I beg you, for your sake, let me write it down.
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.
Dr. Royer-Collard: I won't sully my hands with him.
Marquis de Sade: Nor should you. That's the first rule of politics, isn't it? The man who orders the execution never drops the blade.
Simone: Tell him I'm no fool, a prison's still a prison, even with Chinese silks and chandeliers.
Madeleine: Some things belong on paper, others in life. It's a blessed fool who can't tell the difference.
Madeleine: You can't be a proper writer without a touch of madness, can you?
Marquis de Sade: Welcome to our humble madhouse, Doctor. I trust you'll find yourself at home.
Coulmier: An innocent child is dead.
Marquis de Sade: So many authors are denied the gratification of a concrete response to their work. I am blessed.
Marquis de Sade: These chastity vows of yours. How strict are they? Suppose you only put it in her mouth?
Marquis de Sade: I didn't create this world of ours. I merely recorded it.
Coulmier: It's nothing but an encyclopedia of perversions. One man killed his wife after reading them.
Marquis de Sade: It's a fiction, not a moral treatise.
Renee Pelagie: Desperation has driven me past etiquette, all the way to frenzy.
Dr. Royer-Collard: My schedule is not subject to the whim of lunatics.
Renee Pelagie: I beg to differ, you work in a madhouse. Your every waking moment is governed by the insane.
Renee Pelagie: Can I impart to you his cruellest trick.
Dr. Royer-Collard: Of course.
Renee Pelagie: Once, long ago in the folly of youth, he made me love him.