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: When Gabriel blows his trumpet, I shall be playing the tuba.
: My singular critique of the Good Book... is that its covers are too far apart. Mary Newlie
: Excuse me? Ambrose Bierce
: I am of the opinion that the, uh, Bible... is perhaps, the greatest assemblage of lies and untruths ever gathered together, with the possible exception of the Congressional record. Mary Newlie
: Are you an atheist, sir? Ambrose Bierce
: Yes, ma'am. Thanks to your God. I am an athiest. Mary Newlie
: Then there is no hope for your soul on the final day. When Gabriel blows his horn, your ears will be deaf... to the resounding tone of its glory, Mr. Bierce. Ambrose Bierce
: Oh, no. On the contrary, when Gabriel blows his horn, I shall be playing the tuba.
: Any last words? Ambrose Bierce
: Death is the end of pain - the last pain.
: I weren't gonna steal it or nothin'. I just wanted to see it up close. Ambrose Bierce
: Is this close enough? Catherine Reece
: Yes, sir.
: Senor, a lot of white folks go missing in these parts. Can I ask your name in case someone come looking? Ambrose Bierce
: Bierce. Ambrose Bierce. And no one will come looking.
: They say when a man drinks, he develops certain... powers. John Newlie
: What kind of powers? Ambrose Bierce
: Clairvoyance. Second sight. John Newlie
: My wife is right, Mr. Bierce. You ought to take better care of yourself. Ambrose Bierce
: This is a preservative, and I'm pickling myself for your great... beyond.
: My liquor. Give it back.
: Water, then? Razor Charlie
: Tequila! Ambrose Bierce
: That's my cue. Two bottles of your very finest. Thank you. Milk, indeed.
: I'll stand the peddler to a drink.
: I see you read the papers. Ambrose Bierce
: I'm a journalist by trade.
: It's really quite an extraordinarily compromising position.
: This is a preservative, I'm pickling myself.