Pappyism: There's only two times in a man's life when he should be noble: when he's caught dealing seconds and when somebody slaps a lady.
Pappyism: What good's a yellow streak if you can't depend on it?
Bart: All right, Sheriff, you're throwing me out of town. All right, no argument. But would you mind telling me why?
Sheriff: 'Cause you're a card sharp, Mr. Maverick.
Bart: They don't call me that when I lose.
Sheriff: Card sharps cause trouble … my job to keep things tranquil-like here in Medicine Forks.
Bart: No trouble when I came through town last year. A fella by the name of Gunther was sheriff then. Why don't you ask him about me?
Sheriff: Let me explain you something, Mr. Maverick. Two kinds of lawmen. Ones like me, use their heads. And the ones like Gunther, let their guns do their thinkin' for them. That's why he's on that hill up there, waitin' for Gabriel's trumpet. Why I'm down here, puttin' you out of town.
McKenna: What do ya call this hick town, Sheriff?
Sheriff: You plannin' on stayin' over?
McKenna: Here? Not even if I was dead
Sheriff: In that case, why ask?
McKenna: Well, seems to me you lean kinda heavy on that star, Sheriff
Bart: Well, the Sheriff is something of a thinker.
McKenna: Who asked you to mix in, tinhorn?
Bart: You have to be a thinker to call me tinhorn.
Overman: All aboard, we're pullin' out. Last stop : Oblivion.
McKenna: Why don't you shut your mouth, fat man? Your tongue bounces around like the back seat of a buckboard.
McKenna: Looks like you're gettin' a little big for your britches, tinhorn.
Bart: Not at all, Mr. McKenna, they just shrunk since the last time I had them washed.
McKenna: Have a drink, tinhorn.
Bart: No thanks, Mr. McKenna. Oh, I never drink on Wednesday. It's an old family custom.
McKenna: Wednesday? This ain't no Wednesday. This here's a Friday.
Bart: You don't say. Time certainly moves fast, doesn't it?
Bart: Why don't we just cut high card for one of the bedrooms?
McKenna: Not you, tinhorn. You let him handle them cards and I guarantee ya, he won't be bunkin' in no parlor. He'll end up with the best room in the …
Smith: Why don't you shut up?
McKenna: Maybe you figure on shuttin' me up?
Smith: What you need is another fist in your face, punk.
Laura: Why, Mr. Maverick, I'd hate to have your kind of a mind.
Bart: Sometimes I'm not very fond of it myself.
(Dave admires the freshly dug grave)
Dave: That looks fine. Once we tamp it down, level it off, no one's ever gonna know the difference.
Dirk: Dave, this … this don't bother you none at all, does it?
Dave: Maybe it does, maybe it don't. What of it?
Dirk: Well, he was a nice old man. He probably never did anything bad in his whole life.
Dave: Well, he made two mistakes. He ain't got no family to start lookin' for him, carried a lot of money.
McKenna: What do we do till then, sit around and count our thumbs?
Smith: Well, you could always pick another fight with Maverick.
McKenna: I just might make that you.
Smith (chuckles): You know, McKenna, you're one of those big boys with a big mouth, carries two big guns, figures he's a real hard case, can push people around. Now why don't we go outside and see can you push me around
Smith: Say, that's a right nice gun you got there, Mr. Lyme, that's a right nice gun. You know, I just bet you my last bottom dollar that this here's the gun you killed Mr. Sunday with. Yes, sir, bet it is.
Verna: I hope you'll explain that remark, Mr. Smith.
Smith: Well, how do you explain anything so simple? You just went into his room last night, stuck a gun on him, took him outside and (empty gun clicks) killed him dead.
Nero: That's not true. Mr. Sunday got on the morning stage. How can you come in here and …
Smith: Well, there's a nice quiet little spot about a mile north a here. It's got trees all around it. Why don't we go up there and do a little diggin'? Don't have to bring any shovels 'cause there's a couple of 'em in the trunk of a hallow tree about 20 feet north of where your boys buried old man Sunday.
Verna: What is it you want?
McKenna: I'm sayin' you're out of your head. You find a locket under a bed and right away it's a massacre.
Smith: What you want us to do is to grab the whole bunch, tie 'em up and take 'em to the nearest Marshall.
Bart (chuckles): My old Pappy never did raise any heroes, Mr. Smith. I simply suggest that we sit tight and keep our eyes open for possible trouble.
Smith: But unless there is trouble, we keep our mouths shut. That is, until we get to Denver. You got that straight, boy?
McKenna: Maybe we oughta crawl under a bed?
Smith: You do as you're told, and that's all you do.
Laura: They'll kill us too, won't they, Mr. Maverick?
Bart: I'm not much of a mind reader
Laura: Well, I know they'll kill us, but I - I just can't figure out why they haven't done it already.
Bart: They've got a couple of bodies to get rid of before they get to us.
Bart: I figured McKenna would remember what I said about the stage. So my best chance was to double back here, sneak that rifle off the wall, and wait for the stage to show up - hoping to get some help from the passengers.
Sheriff: You're what I call a thinker, Mr. Maverick.
Bart: Well, that's the nicest thing anybody's ever said about me, Sheriff.
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