Koverchenko: Well, sir, the roadwheel's cracked. Kaminski drank our brakes. We're low on petrol. The battery's low. We're losing oil. If the engine heats up it's gonna seize. The terrain, obviously against us. We have no rations. The Mujas behind us don't seem to run on rations, petrol, or anything we know of. And they have an RPG. Their aim is getting better. Sir.
Tomas: You can sleep. Sleep in my arms. Like a baby bird. Like a broom among brooms... in a broom closet. Like a tiny parrot. Like a whistle. Like a little song. A song sung by a forest... within a forest... a thousand years ago.
Chick Gandil: You go back to Boston and turn seventy grand at the drop of a hat? I find that hard to believe.
Sport Sullivan: You say you can find seven men on the best club that ever took the field willin' to throw the World Series? I find that hard to believe.
Chick Gandil: You never played for Charlie Comiskey.