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What I said the other day, you looking like me, that ain't true. You ain't ugly like me, it's just that we both have got scars.
All right now, I'm comin' out. Any man I see out there, I'm gonna kill him. Any sumbitch takes a shot at me, I'm not only gonna kill him, but I'm gonna kill his wife. All his friends. Burn his damn house down.
You better bury Ned right; and don't go cuttin' up... nor otherwise harm no whores, or I'll come back and kill every one of you sons-a-bitches.
Any man don't wanna get killed... better clear on out the back.
Who's the fella owns this shithole? You, fat man. Speak up.
I'm Will Munny and I've killed women and children. I've killed everything that walks or crawls at one time or another. And I'm here to kill you, Little Bill, for what you done to Ned.
Now Ned, them whores are going to tell different lies than you. And when their lies ain't the same as your lies... Well, I ain't gonna hurt no woman. But I'm gonna hurt you. And not gentle like before... but bad.
You been talking about that queen of yours, again, Bob? On Independence Day?
I guess you think I'm kicking you, Bob. But it ain't so. What I'm doing is talking, you hear? I'm talking to all those villains down there in Kansas. I'm talking to all those villains in Missouri. And all those villains down there in Cheyenne. And what I'm saying is there ain't no whore's gold. And if there was, how they wouldn't want to come looking for it anyhow.
I suppose you know, Bob, if I ever see you again I'm just going to start shooting and figure it was self-defense.
Look son, being a good shot, being quick with a pistol, that don't do no harm, but it don't mean much next to being cool-headed. A man who will keep his head and not get rattled under fire, like as not, he'll kill ya. It ain't so easy to shoot a man anyhow, especially if the son-of-a-bitch is shootin' back at you.
Misfire. Kill that son of a bitch.
Alright Gentlemen. He's got one barrel left. And when he fires that, take out your pistols and shoot him down like the mangy scoundrel he is!
If you were to try to assassinate a king, sir, the, how shall I say it, the aura of royalty would cause you to miss. But, the president, I mean, why not shoot the president?
A plague on you. A plague on the whole stinking lot of ya, without morals or laws. And all you whores got no laws. You got no honor. It's no wonder you all emigrated to America, because they wouldn't have you in England. You're a lot of savages, that's what you all are. A bunch of bloody savages. A plague on you. I'll be back.
You know, he don't have a straight angle in that whole god-damned porch, or the whole house for that matter. He is the worst damn carpenter.
You know, he don't have a straight angle in that whole god-damned porch, or the whole house for that matter. He is the worst damn carpenter.
You know how women lie.
Just because we let them smelly fools ride us like horses don't mean we gotta let 'em brand us like horses. Maybe we ain't nothing but whores but we, by god, we ain't horses.
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