Ultimo tango a Parigi

Jeanne:
I fell in love with him when I first heard him play piano.

Paul:
You mean the first time he got inside your knickers.

Jeanne:
He was a child prodigy; he was playing with both hands.

Paul:
I bet he was!

Paul:
Get the butter.

Paul:
Your happiness is my hap-penis.

Paul:
"I could dance forever! Oh, my hemorrhoid."

Paul:
You know in 15 years, you're going to be playing soccer with your tits. What do you think of that?

Paul:
Anyway, to make a long, dull story even duller, I come from a time when a guy like me used to come into a joint like this and pick up a young chick like you and... call her a 'bimbo'.

Paul:
You started grabbing his joint?

Jeanne:
Your crazy!

Paul:
Well, he touched you, didn't he?

Jeanne:
I never let him! Never!

Paul:
Ugh! Liar, liar, pants on fire, nose is as long as a telephone wire.

Paul:
You mean to tell me he didn't touch you? Look at me straight in the face and say, 'He didn't touch me.'

Jeanne:
No, he touched me, but the way he did it.

Paul:
Aha! The *way* he did it.

Jeanne:
Why do you hate women?

Paul:
Either they always pretend to know who I am, or they pretend I don't know who they are, and that's very boring.

Paul:
I'm awfully sorry to intrude, but I was so... struck with your beauty that I thought perhaps I could offer you a glass of champagne. Is this seat taken?

Jeanne:
No.

Paul:
I'm going to get yoooooooou! Bimboooooo!

Jeanne:
Let's drink a toast to our life in the hotel.

Paul:
No f*** all that! Hey listen! Let's drink a toast to our life in the country.

Jeanne:
You're a nature lover? You didn't tell me that.

Paul:
Oh, for chrissa-, I'm nature boy. Can't you see me with the cows and the chickenshit all over me? Huh?

Jeanne:
Oh, that's right. To the cows!

Paul:
Cow.

Jeanne:
I will be your cow too.

Paul:
I get to milk you twice a day. How about that?

Paul:
Even if a husband lives 200 hundred f***ing years, he'll never discover his wife's true nature. I may be able to understand the secrets of the universe, but... I'll never understand the truth about you. Never.

Paul:
It's me again.

Jeanne:
It's over.

Paul:
That's right. It's over and then it begins again.

Jeanne:
What begins again? I don't understand anything anymore.

Paul:
There's nothing to understand. We left the apartment, and now we begin and love all the rest of it.

Jeanne:
The rest of it?

Paul:
Yeah, listen. I'm 45. I'm a widower. I own a little hotel. It's kind of a dump, but not completely a flop house. Then I used to live on my luck and I got married, and my wife killed herself.

Jeanne:
It's better not knowing anything.