Le pacte des loups

Jean-Francois de Morangias:
So tell me sir, do they speak of the beast in Paris?

Gregoire De Fronsac:
Speak of it? They're already singing songs about it.

Genevi?ve de Morangias:
Instead of singing songs, they should be saying prayers.

Jean-Francois de Morangias:
Congratulations. If I had both my hands, I'd applaud you.

Jean-Francois de Morangias:
You are too late. The beast is immortal.

Gregoire de Fronsac:
IT may be immortal, but YOU aren't!

Mani:
All women have the same color when the candle is out.

Jean-Francois de Morangias:
Ghost or not, I'll split you in two.

Gregoire De Fronsac:
[showing the dinner audience the trout with black hair] Salmo truta dermopilla from Canada.

[Examining Jean-Francois's custom-made gun]

Gregoire De Fronsac:
A silver bullet? Are you afraid of werewolves?

Jean-Francois de Morangias:
I like to sign my shots.

[about Jean-Francois's missing arm]

Gregoire De Fronsac:
How did it happen?

Jean-Francois de Morangias:
I learned that sometimes one bullet doesn't suffice.

[Sylvia stabs Jean-Francois's dead body]

Capitaine Duhamel:
He was dead.

Sylvia:
Now it's certain.

Sylvia:
Do you know how Florentine women ensure their husbands come home? Every morning they slip him a slow poison, and every evening the antidote. That way, when the husband spends the night away, he has a very bad night.

Gregoire De Fronsac:
You needn't resort to that.

Thomas d'Apcher:
And you, Mani? Which one will you choose?

Gregoire De Fronsac:
Mani doesn't use firearms.

Mani:
Too much noise, too much smoke, bad smell.