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Rosso - Die Farbe des Todes

Helga Ulmann: It was - I can't explain it - something strange and sharp, like the prick of a thorn. It upset me, but it's all right now.
[Gasps]
Helga Ulmann: I can feel death in this room! I feel a presence, a twisted mind sending me thoughts! Perverted, murderous thoughts... Go away! You have killed! And you will kill again!

Marcus Daly: Gianna! Gianna! There's someone in the house... absolutely trying to kill me, ya'know?

Gianna Brezzi: I think that a woman's gotta be independent so she can...
Marcus Daly: Oh, don't start with me about all that woman's stuff. It is a fundamental fact... men are different from women. Women are... weaker; well, they're gentler.
Gianna Brezzi: They're what? Weaker? Gentler?
[she howls in laughter - stops laughing, stands, unbuttons jacket, moves to the table, determinedly clearing it]
Marcus Daly: What on earth are you doing?
Gianna Brezzi: [sitting again and holding her arm up, wriggling her fingers] Come on, Tarzan. Why don't you try me?
Marcus Daly: What's that?
Gianna Brezzi: Arm wrestling.
[brusquely]
Gianna Brezzi: Come on. Then we'll see who's weaker!
Marcus Daly: Oh, don't be ridiculous!
Gianna Brezzi: You backing out?

Carlo: Look, maybe you've seen something so important you can't realize it.
Marcus Daly: But... I'm just trying to understand, because...
Carlo: You know, sometimes what you actually see and what you imagine... get mixed up in your memory like a cocktail... from which you can no longer distinguish one flavor from another.
Marcus Daly: But I'm telling you the truth!
Carlo: No, Marc. You think you're telling the truth, but in fact... you're telling only your version of the truth. It happens to me all the time.

[back at the car with Marc]
Marcus Daly: What'd you do?
Olga: Nothing. Don't pay any attention; my father's just a little crazy.
[at Rodi's feet, a lizard with a pin through it's head, squirming on the ground]

Marcus Daly: [playing a jazz piece, Marc abruptly stops and addresses the band] Great! Really, that's good. Very good. Maybe a bit too good... Too clean. Yes, too precise. Too... formal. It should be more trashy. See what I mean? Remember that this sort of jazz came out of the brothels.

Marcus Daly: It seems there are just some things you can't do seriously with liberated women.

Calcabrini: What are you doing in Italy?
Marcus Daly: I am a pianist. Jazz. I teach here at the conservatory. I teach jazz.
Calcabrini: And you play the piano, right? So, in that case you don't have a job, right?
Marcus Daly: I told you, I'm a pianist.
Calcabrini: Yeah, sure.

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By what name was Rosso - Die Farbe des Todes (1975) officially released in India in English?