Madeleine:
You can't be a proper writer without a touch of madness,
can you?
The Marquis de Sade: I didn't create this world of ours!
I merely recorded it!
Dr. Royer-Collard: I won't sully my hands with him. The
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!
The Marquis de Sade: You've already stolen my heart... as
well as another more prominent organ, south of the Equator.
Marquis De Sade: Ah, you've come to read my trousers.
Marquis de Sade: I write what I see, the endless procession
to the guillotine. We're all lined up, waiting for the crunch
of the blade... the rivers of blood are flowing beneath
our feet... I've been to hell young man, you've only read
about it.
Madeleine: Some things belong on paper, others in life.
It's a blessed fool who can't tell the difference.
Madeleine: If I wasn't such a bad woman on the page, I couldn't
be such a good woman in life.
Madeleine: How can we know who is good -- and who is evil?
Coulmier: All we can do is guard against our own corruption.
The Marquis de Sade: Conversation, like certain portions
of the anatomy, always runs more smoothly when lubricated.
Madeleine: He's a writer, not a madman.
Coulmier: It's nothing but an encyclopedia of perversions.
One man killed his wife after reading them. The Marquis
de Sade: It's a fiction, not a moral treatise.
Royer-Collard: If you're going to martyr yourself Abbe,
do it for God, not the chambermaid.
Madeleine: Don't come any closer Abbe, God's watching.
Dr. Royer-Collard: You know how I define idealism, Monsieur
Delbenet? Youth's final luxury.
The Marquis de Sade: I've been to Hell. You've only read
about it.
Coulmier: You're not the anti-Christ. You're only a malcontent
who knows how to spell.
Madeleine: Your publisher says I'm not to leave without
another manuscript. Marquis De Sade: I've just the story.
It's the unhappy tale... of a virginal laundry lass. The
darling of the lower wards where they entomb the criminally
insane. Madeleine: Is it awfully violent? Marquis De Sade:
Most assuredly. Madeleine: Is it terribly erotic? Marquis
De Sade: Fiendishly so! But it comes with a price. A kiss
for each page.
Marquis de Sade: Why should I love God? He strung up his
only son like a side of veal. I shudder to think what he'd
do to me.
Marquis de Sade: In order to know virtue, we must acquaint
ourselves with vice. Only then can we know the true measure
of a man.
