Travis Bickle: All the animals come out at night - whores, skunk pussies, buggers, queens, fairies, dopers, junkies, sick, venal. Someday a real rain will come and wash all this scum off the streets.
Janeway: All right, you guys! Let's go! Move out of there.
Melendez: Blow it out your ass, motherfucker.
Harry Callahan: I'll tell you what you are to me, little man. You're just a maggot who sells dirty pictures.
Woody Guthrie: This land is your land/This land is my land/From California to the New York Island/From the Redwood forests to the Gulf Stream waters/This land was made for you and me.
Hellsgate rancher: They call this country Hell's Gate. When my dad came in here, it was nothing but a bunch of savage Indians. And Jesuits. Old Thomas Jefferson said that he was a warrior so his son could be a farmer, so his son could be a poet. And I raise cattle so my son can be a merchant, so his son can move to Newport, Rhode Island and buy a sailboat and never see one of these bastard-ass sons of bitching mountains again.
Si: Who was Thomas Jefferson?
Hellsgate rancher: A guy back east.