Colonel William F. Guile: Troopers! I have just received new orders. Our superiors say the war is cancelled, and we can all go home. Bison is getting paid off for his crimes, and our friends will have died here... will have died for nothing. But... we can all go home. Meanwhile, ideals like these - freedom, and justice - they get packed up. But... we can all go home. Well... I'm not going home. I'm gonna get on my boat, and I'm going up-river, and I'm going to kick that son-of-a-bitch Bison's ass so HARD... that the next Bison wanna-be is gonna feel it. Now who wants to go home... and who wants to go with ME!
Gusteau: Remy, what are you doing in here? Remy: Emile shows up, I said not to, but he goes and blabs - Yeah! It's a disaster. Anyway, they're hungry, the food safe is locked, I need the key. Gusteau: They want you to steal food? Remy: Yes. No... it's complicated. It's family. They don't have your ideals. Gusteau's Corn Puppies: [the cardboard Gusteaus start speaking] Gusteau's Barbecue Spare-Ribs: Ideals? Hah! If Chef Fancy Pants had any ideals you think I'd be hawkin' barbecue over here? Gusteau's Microwave Burritos: Or Microwave burritos? Gusteau's Tooth-Pickin' Chicken: Or tooth, I say, tooth-pickin' Chicken? S'about as French as a Corn Dog! Gusteau's Corn Puppies: Roof! Rumming Roon! Gusteau's Barbecue Spare-Ribs: Ha! We're inventin' new ways to sell out over here! Gusteau's Haggis Bites: Will ye' be wantin' some Haggis Bites, then? Gusteau: I cannot control how they use my image Remy, I am dead! Remy: Will you guys SHUT UP? I've got to think!
Praetor Shinzon: Some ideals are worth dying for, aren't they, Jean-Luc?
King Arthur: You may kill me... but you'll never destroy the ideals of Camelot. Ruber: Well, I've got to start somewhere.
The Duke: I don't like this ending... Zidler: Don't like the ending, my dear Duke? The Duke: Why should the courtesan chose the penniless sitar player over the maharajah who is offering her a lifetime of security? That's real love. Once the sitar player has satisfied his lust he will leave her with nothing. I suggest that the courtesan chose the maharajah. Toulouse-Lautrec: But, but tell me, that ending does not uphold the Bohemian ideals of truth, beauty, freedom, and... The Duke: [shouts] I don't care about your ridiculous dogma! Why shouldn't the courtesan chose the maharajah? Christian: [shouts] Because she doesn't love you!... Him... Hi-him, she doesn't love... she doesn't love him. The Duke: Oh, I see... Monsieur Zidler, the play will be rewritten with the courtesan choosing the maharajah and without the lovers' secret song. It will be rehearsed in the morning, ready for the opening tomorrow night... Zidler: But, my dear Duke, that will be quite impossible. Satine: Harold, the Duke is being treated appallingly. These silly writers let their imaginations run away with themselves. Why don't you and I have a little supper, and then we can tell Monsieur Zidler how we would like the story to end.
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