Remy The Rat Quotes

Have you ever seen Ratatouille?” “Of course I have, why?” “I feel like the rat. Should er see if I can make you cook?” “Excuse you.” I squeeze her thighs playfully and her hand tightens in my hair. “His name is Remy.” “My apologies, I didn’t realize I was in the presence of a Ratatouille expert.

I can’t help but think of one of my favorite moments in any Pixar movie, when Anton Ego, the jaded and much-feared food critic in Ratatouille, delivers his review of Gusteau’s, the restaurant run by our hero Remy, a rat. Voiced by the great Peter O’Toole, Ego says that Remy’s talents have “challenged my preconceptions about fine cooking … [and] have rocked me to my core.” His speech, written by Brad Bird, similarly rocked me—and, to this day, sticks with me as I think about my work. “In many ways, the work of a critic is easy,” Ego says. “We risk very little yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read. But the bitter truth we critics must face is that in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is probably more meaningful than our criticism designating it so. But there are times when a critic truly risks something, and that is in the discovery and defense of the new. The world is often unkind to new talent, new creations. The new needs friends.

You’re not bored without the rat race all around you?” “I’ve found some pleasurable activities to keep me busy.” I wink. “Planting petunias?” “I’m really good with a hoe,” I jest. She giggles. “That’s the worst pun I’ve ever heard.” “It can’t be that bad, it made you laugh.

I look into his face, and watch it melt from my boy, to Eddie from Tesco, to Will, to Lesley, to Remy, all with glass embedded in their eyes, all blood-spattered and knotted together. A rat king of boys in the face of this stranger, who is struggling and frightened.

So many different kinds of fruit and vegetables! Eggplants of all sizes, in every shade of purple, white, and black! Dozens of onion-scented things that weren't the traditional farmhouse variety: leeks, scallions, long green onions, calçots, chives... Ten different kinds of peaches! Remi felt drunk on the sweet, sugary smells that wafted up from the fruit as the sunlight hit it. He almost fell to the ground when he came to the fromageries. The combination of fine cheeses being sold from those booths was too much for his refined nose, which was already a thousand times more sensitive than a normal rat nose. It was like he was eating by breathing, like he was swimming through an ocean of fromage.

I feel like the rat.” She tugs on my hair gently. “Should we see if I can make you cook?” “Excuse you.” I squeeze her thighs playfully and her hand tightens in my hair. “His name is Remy.

You look like a drowned rat.” “Rude,” she mumbles. “His name is Remy.