Doc Holliday: Oh. Johnny, I apologize; I forgot you were there. You may go now.
Jim: Well, it got so that every piss-ant prairie punk who thought he could shoot a gun would ride into town to try out the Waco Kid. I must have killed more men than Cecil B. DeMille. It got pretty gritty. I started to hear the word "draw" in my sleep. Then one day, I was just walking down the street when I heard a voice behind me say, "Reach for it, mister!" I spun around... And there I was, face-to-face with a six-year old kid. Well, I just threw my guns down and walked away. Little bastard shot me in the ass. So I limped to the nearest saloon, crawled inside a whiskey bottle, and I've been there ever since.
Prologue: A gun, like any other source of power, is a force for either good or evil, being neither in itself, but dependent upon those who possess it.
Lone Watie: Get ready, little lady. Hell is coming to breakfast.
Hondo Lane: You baked today. Smell fresh bread on you. And top of that you smell all over like a woman, rich and warm and soft. I could find you in the dark Mrs. Lowe.
Running Buffalo: Swell party, where's the whisky?
Ned Pepper: What's your intention? Do you think one on four is a dogpaw?
Rooster Cogburn: I mean to kill you in one minute, Ned. Or see you hanged in Fort Smith at Judge Parker's convenience. Which'll it be?
Ned Pepper: I call that bold talk for a one-eyed fat man!
Rooster Cogburn: Fill your hand, you son of a bitch!
Buster Scruggs: Misanthrope? I don't hate my fellow man, even when he's tiresome and surly and tries to cheat at poker. I figure that's just a human material, and him that finds in it cause for anger and dismay is just a fool for expecting better.
James Pepper: You know, there's an old saying, Miss Sally. There's no law west of Dodge and no God west of the Pecos. Right, Mr. Chisum?
John Simpson Chisum: Wrong, Mr. Pepper. Because no matter where people go, sooner or later there's the law. And sooner or later they find God's already been there.
Martha McCandles: This is going to be a very harsh and unpleasant business, and will take an equally harsh and unpleasant person to see to it.
Passepartout: I'm your new valet.
Phileas Fogg: Uh... I must commend the valet service on their impeccable foresight. But they know I only accept French valets.
Passepartout: Yes. Oh! Oui! Oui! I come from a long line of French valets. On my father's side. Very, very French.
Phileas Fogg: But your accent.
Passepartout: My father French. Never speak. My mother Chinese and never shuts up. All the children pick up her accent.
Major Ashley-Pitt: In our experience, Americans are uncouth misfits who should be run out of their own barbaric country.
Matthew Quigley: Well, Lieutenant.
Major Ashley-Pitt: Major.
Matthew Quigley: Major. We already run the misfits outta our country. We sent 'em back to England.
One Stab: Tristan died in 1963. The moon of the popping trees. He was last seen up in the North Country, where the hunting was still good. His grave is unmarked, but it does not matter. He had always lived in the borderland anyway, somewhere between this world and the Other.
Eli: In all these years I've been carrying it and reading it every day, I got so caught up in keeping it safe that I forgot to live by what I learned from it.
Rooster Cogburn: You go for a man hard enough and fast enough, he don't have time to think about how many's with him; he thinks about himself, and how he might get clear of that wrath that's about to set down on him.
Sheriff J. P. Harrah: What the hell are you doin' here?
Cole: I'm lookin' at a tin star with a... drunk pinned on it.
Patricia Terrill: But if he loved me, why would he let me think he was a coward?
Julie Maragon: If you love him, why would you think it? How many times does a man have to win you?