The Magnificent Seven Season 2 Episode 9

Josiah:I'd say that was darn heroic son.
J.D.:I'd say that was darn lucky preacher.
Buck:That turn was perfect.
J.D.:Ahh Buck, come on you know nothin' I do is perfect.
Chris: If he was perfect he wouldn't be one of us!
Buck:But you are one of us... You shouldn't leave your guns out in the rain... (quietly) Alright.
(Group laughing)
J.D.:That was a pretty good turn wasn't it? (quietly) Wasn't it?

Lester: Ah... Excuse me sir, I was wonderin', is this ah... God fearin' town?
Ezra: Umm... This town and the good lord are ah... hardly on speaking terms.
Lester: I am relieved, name's Big Lester Bangs, from St. Louis.
Ezra: Ezra, Ezra Standish.
Lester: Mr. Standish, if this is not a God-fearin' town, and I currently find myself in the middle of a drinkery, I can only assume that a card game might be had somewhere abouts.
Ezra: Well, as a matter of fact, happen to have a fresh deck right here.
Lester: We share the same taste in good cards.

Mary: Vin, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you. That was a fine poem you wrote. You should feel proud.
Vin: You know, with all that's been goin' on, it made me think of a new poem, just for you.
Mary: Please.
Vin: I'm not the way they see me, not who they think I am. I'm just a man. And I have need of you, sweet woman. Not for the velvet of your touch, but for the weaponry of your mind. There's a hole that needs mending, my own Achilles heel. So I offer up my need. Teach me, noble lady. Teach me to write, and to read.
Mary: I'd be happy to.

Mary: You can't read, can you?
Vin: Ha. Who says I can't read?
Mary: Vin, there's nothing to be ashamed of. Lots of people don't know how to read or write.
Vin: I don't need a bunch of books to teach me about life.
Mary: No, wait. I didn't mean anything by that. Vin!

Josiah: Well, John Dunne. Long time since you been to my house.


JD: You did a nice...funeral.


Josiah: Ah, I hate funerals. I don't care if heaven is paved with the softest silk and serves Kentucky whiskey, I hate sending people up there.


JD: Preacher... did I do something to make God mad at me?


Josiah: You feelin' a mite lonely, Son?


JD: Everything's different. My guns, they... they feel strange. I can't hardly touch 'em. I don't know what to do, Josiah.


Josiah: There was a--a bare knuckle prizefighter in San Francisco Named Walleye Smith. Won 54 fights, all by knockout. Hell of a right hook. Anyway, one day he hits this guy and he kills him.


JD: What?


Josiah: After that, never won another fight.


JD: Well, how could that be I mean, if he was such a good fighter and...


Josiah: Couldn't live with his own strength, I guess.