You expect me to believe that scantily clad, in the arms of another man, in the middle of the night, inside an elephant you were rehearsing?
I don't care about your ridiculous dogma!
It's not that I'm a jealous man, I just don't like other people touching my things!
She is mine.
And in the end should someone die?
Generally I like it.
You made me believe that you loved me.
It's the boy, he has bewitched with her the words. Tell her that the show will end my way and when the curtain falls she will come to me or I'll have the boy killed.
Look, my dear! A little frog!
Let Zidler keep his fairy tale ending.
It's a little bit funny- this feelin' inside.
I don't like this ending.
How do you do? My name is Henri Marie Raymond Toulouse-Lautrec Monfa.
The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.
Christian, you may see me only as a drunken, vice-ridden gnome whose friends are just pimps and girls from the brothels. But I know what love is, only because I long for it with every fiber of my being. She loves you, I know it, I know she loves you.
Killed. Killed? Killed! I must warn him!
Clean yourself off you bourgeois pig!
The hills are alive with the sound of music! I love it!
Aw! The boy has talent. Nothing funny, I just like talent.
Never fall in love with a woman who sells herself. It always ends BAD!
We have a dance in the brothels of Buenos Aires. It tells the story of a prostitute and a man who falls in love with her. First, there is desire. Then, passion. Then, suspicion. Jealousy. Anger. Betrayal. When love is for the highest bidder, there can be no trust. Without trust, there is no love. Jealousy, yes, jealousy will drive you mad!
All right! No problems! Go back to work!
The hills are incarnate with symphonic melodies!
I love sex.