Customer: You lousy tinhorn, you dirty crook! I lost every cent I own in your crummy dive, and if you don't give it back, I'm going to kill myself.
Cash: Now, that is what I call good sportsmanship.
Diamond Jack: What will you take for her?
Cash: She's not for sale.
Flame: I'll handle this.
Diamond Jack: Well, you do that, baby. Now, everything's for sale, right? Just a question of price.
Flame: And you better get ready to pay it, Jack, 'cause I'm about to take it out of your fat hide.
Bret: I was wrong about you, Conover. I thought you were a cut above the rest of these rats.
Cash: In a sewer, pal, a rat's the very thing to be. And remember, the rest of the rats don't think they're slumming. So don't expect them to step up to your class just because you took a notion to step down to theirs.
Clio: You call him Cash?
Bret: Yeah. But nobody knows if that's his name or his religion.
Tully: Now, the man that just ducked into your office is a killer, and we seen him do it.
Cash: Man? What man?
Tully: Joe Hook! He works for you! Now, don't say he ain't in there.
Cash: I don't say he ain't. He isn't.
Cash: I knew the governor would send men to arrest me. I knew I'd be hanged, but I had just proved myself on the field of honor. I told myself, "I can't turn tail and run like a common criminal." And then I told myself, "Oh, yes, you can!"
Cash: But this bunch has sworn to uphold the law.
Jeff: That's how the Klan got started after the war, to resist opposition... punish renegades, freebooters, carpetbaggers.
Cash: So it got a little out of hand.
Jeff: Well, the law has a way of doing that when it puts on a mask. If it isn't out for people to see it, it isn't for the people.
Cash: That's fine talk for an undercover man with secret orders.
Jeff: An investigator--not a judge, jury, and executioner.
Cash: I still say your pal, the governor, is kid simple--sending one man, even if you are the only cop he can trust, to clean up the Barbary Coast.
Jeff: Oh, you know better. I'm only here to dig into it, to see what can be done.
Cash: Yeah, but then you do it.
Jeff: Ha ha ha. Because I'm simple. I can't stand crooks. If I see one I can stop, hmm, I can't stop myself.
Diamond Jack: I don't want to fight.
Bret Hollister: I didn't think you would. Like all your kind, you're yellow. Right, Bassiter? Tell us.
Diamond Jack: Kid's right, folks. I bleed lemon juice.
Clio: So... it is true. What kind of city are we in where a man can commit any crime--even murder--without fear of consequence? A city of criminals?
Cash: No. But they own it.
Cash: You said you know my reputation. It'll save us both some time. Where are you from, Mr. Speece?
Cash: Fine. You're about to go back there in two dozen pickle jars.
Diamond Jack: Tully, you gotta get me out of here. The back way!
Tully: There's no back way. It's what you might call an escape-proof jail.
Moose: Boss, someone put this up outside by the door.
Cash: Death list?
Cash: A death list? "Enemies of the law condemned to die by the Crusaders"? Well, at least my name's not on top.
Moose: It's alphabetical.
Cash: So it is.
Florrie: Well, what will I tell 'em--about my stay of execution?
Keogh: Tell 'em to take it to a taxidermist, and stuff it.
Clio: Flame, I think you have misunderstood my interest in Cash.
Flame: Honey, he ain't mine to misunderstand.
Tully: They're so right--and so many.
Jeff: Yes, that's what it makes it new--the numbers. If two men commit a murder, they're both responsible. If a thousand men do it, who's responsible? Guilt is the only thing that shrinks the more you spread it.
Jeff: (posing as a priest) All we've done is count it. If money is the root of all evil, this money must be the square root.
Clio: I seem to have wasted your time and mine.
Fouchet: Perhaps not, madam. I can also report that he man he seeks is definitely dead, in which case, there can be half a reward for each of us.
Clio: Ah, monsieur, you have established an honest basis for a deep friendship--mutual greed.