Hipolito, The Writer: Without you, today's emotions would be the scurf of yesterday's.
Hipolito (The Writer): We pass the time of day to forget how time passes.
[Amélie hands a begger some money]
Beggar: Sorry madam, I don't work on Sundays.
Raymond Dufayel aka Glass Man: So, my little Amélie, you don't have bones of glass. You can take life's knocks. If you let this chance pass, eventually, your heart will become as dry and brittle as my skeleton. So, go get him, for Pete's sake!
The Sacré-Coeur Boy: The fool looks at a finger that points at the sky.
Amélie Poulain: At least you'll never be a vegetable - even artichokes have hearts.
Man in photo: She is in love.
Nino Quincampoix: I don't even know her!
Man in photo: Oh, you know her.
Nino Quincampoix: Since when?
Man in photo: Since always.
Man in photo: In your dreams.
Amélie: [whispering in cinema] I like to look for things no one else catches.
[film on the cinema screen: as a man and a woman are about to kiss, a fly walks across a windowpane in the background]
Amélie: I hate the way drivers never look at the road in old American movies.
[film on the cinema screen: the driver of a car turns towards his passenger and talks at length to her, totally ignoring the road ahead]
Narrator: Amelie has a strange feeling of absolute harmony. It's a perfect moment. A soft light, a scent in the air, the quiet murmur of the city. A surge of love, an urge to help mankind overcomes her.
Raymond Dufayel aka Glass Man: You mean she would rather imagine herself relating to an absent person than build relationships with those around her?
Narrator: On September 3rd 1973, at 6:28pm and 32 seconds, a bluebottle fly capable of 14,670 wing beats a minute landed on Rue St Vincent, Montmartre. At the same moment, on a restaurant terrace nearby, the wind magically made two glasses dance unseen on a tablecloth. Meanwhile, in a 5th-floor flat, 28 Avenue Trudaine, Paris 9, returning from his best friend's funeral, Eugène Colère erased his name from his address book. At the same moment, a sperm with one X chromosome, belonging to Raphaël Poulain, made a dash for an egg in his wife Amandine. Nine months later, Amélie Poulain was born.
Narrator: Amélie still seeks solitude. She amuses herself with silly questions about the world below, such as "How many people are having an orgasm right now?"
[scenes of various orgasms taking place]
Narrator: Nino is late. Amelie can only see two explanations. 1 - he didn't get the photo. 2 - before he could assemble it, a gang of bank robbers took him hostage. The cops gave chase. They got away... but he caused a crash. When he came to, he'd lost his memory. An ex-con picked him up, mistook him for a fugitive, and shipped him to Istanbul. There he met some Afghan raiders who too him to steal some Russian warheads. But their truck hit a mine in Tajikistan. He survived, took to the hills, and became a Mujaheddin. Amelie refuses to get upset for a guy who'll eat borscht all his life in a hat like a tea cozy.
Amélie: [to her father, who is not paying attention] I had two heart attacks, an abortion, did crack... while I was pregnant. Other than that, I'm fine.
Amélie: [to blind man] Let me help you. Step down. Here we go! The drum major's widow! She's worn his coat since the day he died. The horse's head has lost an ear! That's the florist laughing. He has crinkly eyes. In the bakery window, lollipops. Smell that! They're giving out melon slices! Sugarplum, ice cream! We're passing the park butcher. Ham, 79 francs. Spareribs, 45! Now the cheese shop. Picadors are 12.90. Cabecaus 23.50. A baby's watching a dog that's watching the chickens. Now we're at the kiosk by the metro. I'll leave you here. Bye!
The Newsstand Woman: A woman without love wilts like a flower without sun.
Bretodeau, The Box Man: Life's funny. To a kid, time always drags. Suddenly you're fifty. All that's left of your childhood... fits in a rusty little box.
Seller in the porno shop: These are hard times for dreamers.
Narrator: [Amélie has found Nino's photo album and his "lost" posters] Any normal girl would call the number, meet him, return the album and see if her dream is viable. It's called a reality check. The last thing Amélie wants.
Joseph: Cram it, failure!
Hipolito, The Writer: Failed writer, failed life... I love the word "fail." Failure is human destiny.
Joseph: It's gasbag time!
Hipolito, The Writer: Failure teaches us that life is but a draft, a long rehearsal for a show that will never play.
Joseph: I bet he stole that.
Hipolito, The Writer: I do have some original ideas, but people always steal them.
Hipolito, The Writer: Same as your women.
Hipolito, The Writer: You'd better get used to it.
Old Man at the Two Windmills: Still, true love does exist.
Suzanne, Owner Two Windmills bar: I know. After 30 years behind a bar, I'm an expert. I'll even give you the recipe. Take two regulars, mix them together and let them stew. It never fails.
Narrator: Amelie has one friend, Blubber. Alas the home environment has made Blubber suicidal.
[Pet fish leaps out of fish bowl in an attempt at suicide]
Amélie Poulain: She doesn't relate to other people. She was always a lonely child.
Raymond Dufayel aka Glass Man: So that's the one, there, the guy who raises his hand?
Raymond Dufayel aka Glass Man: Is she in love with him?
Raymond Dufayel aka Glass Man: The time has come for her to take some real risks.
Amélie: Well yes, she's thinking about it. She's thinking of a stratagem.
Raymond Dufayel aka Glass Man: Yes, she likes stratagems, doesn't she?
Raymond Dufayel aka Glass Man: She's a bit of a coward. That's why I have trouble with her eyes.
Josef Stalin dubbed in propaganda film excerpt: If Amélie chooses to live in a dream-world and remain an introverted young woman, she has every right to mess up her life!
Raymond Dufayel aka Glass Man: Luck is like the Tour de France. You wait, and it flashes past you. You have to catch it while you can.
Narrator: September 28th, 1997. It is exactly 11am. At the funfair, near the ghost train, the marshmallow twister is twisting. Meanwhile, on a bench in Villette Square, Félix Lerbier learns there are more links in his brain than atoms in the universe. Meanwhile, at the Sacré Coeur, the nuns are practising their backhand. The temperature is 24°C, humidity 70%, atmospheric pressure 990 millibars.
Narrator: With a prompter in every cellar window whispering comebacks, shy people would have the last laugh.
Narrator: Philoméne likes the sound of the cat's bowl on the tiles. The cat likes overhearing children's stories.
Mr. Collignon: [whispering to Amelie] Bre-to-deau. But if I say it, it won't count. I'm senile.
Mrs. Collignon: Ignore him. He's senile. See what he's done to my laurel? His old job was punching metro tickets. Now he gets up every night to punch holes in my laurel!
Mr. Collignon: We all need a way to relax.
[screaming, after Amélie spills tea on her]
Georgette: Bravo! Vive la France! You scalded me! Bravo! Ten out of ten! Ten out of ten! Bull's eye!
Joseph: You're gorgeous when you blush. Like a wild flower.
Georgette: [shaking head] It's my dyspepsia.
[Lucien is efficiently serving customers at the grocery while Collignon is absent]
Madeleine Wallace: Where's the owner?
Lucien: Shhh! Sleeping in the cauliflower!
Narrator: For Bretodeau, that little box brought back a lot of memories - Federico Bahamontes winning the '59 Tour de France, and of course, the tragic day when he won all the marbles at playtime
The Teacher: [Bretodeau tries to put all his marbles away before the Teacher sees him] Bretodeau!
[approaches him and gets his ear]
The Teacher: You know the pinch, Bretodeau!
Raymond Dufayel aka Glass Man: Lady Di! Lady Di! Renoir!