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Leopold: As I see it, Patrice has not an inkling of your affections, and it's no wonder. You, Charles, are a merry-andrew.
Charlie: A what?
Leopold: Everything plays a farce to you. Women respond to sincerity. No-one wants to be romanced by a buffoon.
Charlie: A what?
Leopold: Everything plays a farce to you. Women respond to sincerity. No-one wants to be romanced by a buffoon.
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[to JJ] By the way, there is no "Andre" in Boheme; it's Rodolfo. And though it takes place in France, it is rarely played in French as it is written in Italian. Goodnight, Kate.
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Are you suggesting that there exists a law compelling gentlemen to lay hold of canine bowel movements?
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I haven't been your girlfriend for a whole month now. You can tell me the truth.
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I warn you, scoundrel, I was trained to ride at the King's Academy, and schooled in weaponry by the Palace Guard; you stand no chance. When you run, I shall ride, and when you stop, the steel of this strap shall be lodged in your brain!
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I'm accustomed to stand when a woman leaves the table.
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Theoretically, if you go to the past in the future, then your future lies in the past. This is a picture of you in the future - in the past.
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You know something? Nobody gives a rat's ass that you have to push the toast down twice! You know why? Because EVERYBODY pushes their toast down twice!