The Duke: The limit of love is always needing an accomplice!
The Duke: We Fascists are the only true anarchists, naturally, once we're masters of the state. In fact, the one true anarchy is that of power.
The Duke: Within a budding grove, the girls think but of love. Hear the radio, drinking tea and to hell with being free. They've no idea the bourgeoisie has never hesitated to kill its children.
The Duke: It is when I see others degraded that I rejoice knowing it is better to be me than the scum of "the people". Whenever men are equal, without that difference, happiness cannot exist. So you wouldn't aid the humble, the unhappy. In all the world no voluptuousness flatters the senses more than social privilege.
The Duke: [Renata is crying] Are you crying for your mama? Come, I'll console you! Come here to me!
The President: [singing] Come, little darling to your good daddy / He'll sing you a lullaby
The Duke: Heavens, what an opportunity you offer me. Sra Maggi's tale must be acted upon at once.
Female Victim: Sir, Sir. Pity. Respect my grief. I'm suffering so, at my mother's fate. She died for me and I'll never see her again.
The Duke: Undress her.
Female Victim: Kill me! At least God, whom I implore, will pity me. Kill me, but don't dishonor me.
The Duke: This whining's the most exciting thing I've ever heard.
The Duke: Dear friends, marrying each other's daughters will unite our destinies for ever.
Signora Castelli: It is not enough to kill the same person over and over again. It is far more recommendable to kill as many beings as possible.
The Bishop: Idiot, did you really think we would kill you? Don't you see we want to kill you a thousand times, to the limits of eternity, if eternity could have limits?
The Duke: I remember I once had a mother too, who aroused similar feelings in me. As soon as I could, I sent her to the next world. I have never known such subtle pleasure as when she closed her eyes for the last time.
The Duke: This howling is the most exciting thing I have ever heard.
Signora Vaccari: I was nine when my sister took me to Milan to meet Signora Calzetti. She examined me and asked if I wanted to work for her. I said I would, if the pay was good. My first client, a stout man named Vaccari, looked me over carefully. At once, I showed him my pussy, which I thought was very special. He covered his eyes: "Out of the question. I'm not interested in your vagina, cover it up." He covered me, making me lie down, and said "All these little whores know is to flaunt their vaginas. Now I shall have to recover from that disgusting sight."
[two young male guards are dancing with each other]
Guard: What's your girlfriend's name?
The Magistrate: Signora Vaccari is sure to soon turn them into first class whores. Nothing is more contagious than evil.
The Duke: The obscene gesticulation is like deaf-mute's language, with a code none of us, despite unrestrained caprice, can transgress.
The Magistrate: "Without bloodshed, there's no pardon. Without bloodshed."
The Duke: [singing] On the bridge of Perati, there flies a black flag, the mourning of the Julian regiment that goes to war. On the bridge of Perati, there flies a black flag. The best young men lie under the earth.
The Magistrate: The principle of all greatness on earth has long been totally bathed in blood. And, my friends, if my memory does not betray me - yes, that's it: without bloodshed, there is no forgiveness. Without bloodshed. Baudelaire.
The President: Homage to the rear temple is often more fervent than the other.