Passepartout: I'm your new valet.
Phileas Fogg: Uh... I must commend the valet service on their impeccable foresight. But they know I only accept French valets.
Passepartout: Yes. Oh! Oui! Oui! I come from a long line of French valets. On my father's side. Very, very French.
Phileas Fogg: But your accent.
Passepartout: My father French. Never speak. My mother Chinese and never shuts up. All the children pick up her accent.
Tony Wilson: Why "Tristram Shandy"? This is the book that many people said is unfilmable.
Steve Coogan: I think that's the attraction. "Tristram Shandy" was a post-modern classic written before there was any modernism to be post about. So it was way ahead of its time and, in fact, for those who haven't heard of it, it was actually listed as number eight on the Observer's top 100 books of all time.
Tony Wilson: That was a chronological list.
Silas: Wait, that's not a monster! That's a man wearing shoulder pads. There's only one supervillain whose fashion sense is quite dead dated... Balthazar Bratt! I want every agent on this scene immediately.
Cricket Feldstein: Well, this play is gonna bitch-slap Broadway like a cheap hooker at a gangbang.
Dana Marschz: Uh... yeah.
Cricket Feldstein: Y'know, and those Bible-humping protesters can suck a bag of dicks, 'cause all I ended up doing was giving you free publicity.
Dana Marschz: Yeah, and did you see my dressing room? It has a bidet.
Elisabeth Shue: That was a sink.
Dana Marschz: It was?
Cricket Feldstein: No one is shutting down this play. The Justice Department and the so-called Supreme Court can suck my balls.
Dana Marschz: Why do they have to do this?
Cricket Feldstein: My balls?
Dana Marschz: I feel like I'm in a cage! And I feel like Nicolas Cage in Leaving Las Vegas! Starring my good friend, Elisabeth Shue.
Dana Marschz: We are putting on this play and if you don't like it, then tough titties you assturd monkey fucker.
Dana Marschz: It's a slippery slope... beer, liquor, dope, coke, meth, chicks with dicks, then jail.
Philomena: Sister Hildegarde, I want you to know that I forgive you.
Martin Sixsmith: What? Just like that?
Philomena: Its not 'just like that'... it's hard. That's hard for me. But I don't want to hate people. I don't want to be like you... Look at you.
Martin Sixsmith: I'm angry.
Philomena: Must be exhausting.
Sister Hildegarde: The Lord Jesus Christ will be my judge - not the likes of you.
Martin Sixsmith: Really? Because I think if Jesus was here right now he'd tip you out of that fucking wheelchair - and you wouldn't get up and walk.