Bite the Bullet (1975)
[Carbo's abusive riding tactics have killed his horse]
Sam Clayton: Bury him.
Carbo: What with?
Sam Clayton: Your god-damned hands!
Sam Clayton: See he does it. You see to it!
Carbo: What he said, is it that important?
Reporter: Must be, he said it twice.
Sam Clayton: We came out of the jungle and there it was - San Juan Hill. The Spanish guns lookin' right down our throat, the sharpshooters pickin' us off and we just charged right up that hill!
[starts to ride off, but returns]
Sam Clayton: That's not the way it happened at all. It wasn't anything like it was in San Antoine where we did our trainin'. That's where I ran into Luke and a lot of other men from every other country who wanted to be Roughriders. Bakers and barbers and Congressman, cattlemen, ballplayers, farmers and porters... cowboys. No, we didn't rough ride up that hill, 'cause we didn't have any horses. We didn't charge up there, either. We crawled up there on our scared bellies. There was only one horse and one rider - that was Colonel Teddy. He went chargin' up that damn hill and they shot his glasses off. He put on another pair and they nipped him in the elbow, and he said, "Follow me!" And we did, 'cause we was too damned ashamed not to.
Mister: God, what ain't I tried. Pony express rider, Overland Stage driver, lawman, gambler, riverman, rancher, rodeo hand, barman, spittoon man... old man. Never much to remember. Of course, there ain't much to forget, either. Nobody's got much use for an old man. I can't blame 'em much. That's why I'm going to win this here newspaper race. When I cross the finish line, I get to be a big man. Top man. A man to remember.
Carbo: Hey, British! Drink to the winner.
[Carbo throws Norfolk a bottle of whiskey]
Norfolk: Thank you. I haven't really won the race yet, however.
Luke Matthews: How far is it to town?
The Wood Cutter: Don't know. Never seem to have made it.
Luke Matthews: Well, you don't know much.
The Wood Cutter: Huh?
Luke Matthews: I said you don't know much.
The Wood Cutter: Mister, I don't know a damned thing about nothin'... but I ain't the one who's lost.
Reporter: We're big news everywhere!
Reporter: "Chicago: Adding $250 to purse and will headline winner in my Wild West show. Signed Buffalo Bill Cody."
Rosie's barmaid: Hey, wasn't he the fastest gun in the West?
Rosie: Only in bed, kiddo.
Luke Matthews: You certainly have a knack of provoking a man to violence.
Carbo: All I said was she...
Luke Matthews: It was the way you said it - like it was an insult.
Carbo: Hell, yeah, when a woman does it for money...
Luke Matthews: A man always gets the best of the bargain. Before you take her to bed, she's a thing of beauty. In bed, an angel of mercy. And afterwards, she's a...
Luke Matthews: ...a pillow piece.
Miss Jones: I've been around a lot of cowhands, one way or another. A cowboy dresses from the top down. The first thing on is his hat. And he undresses from the bottom up. Last thing off... hat. Oh, and another thing - to be a cowpuncher, that don't mean you actually got to go around punching them, you know.
Carbo: Hey, old man, thought sure you cashed it in.
Mister: Not 'til I'm back in Oklahoma.
Carbo: I'd rather be in Hell than Oklahoma!
Mister: Every man to his own country.
Mister: I've never saw a man who could hold his liquor like a bottle.
Mister: Ever prospected? Ever hit pay dirt? I've dug for gold, silver, lead, mercury. I've dug more holes than a whole regiment of gophers. I ain't never dug a decent day's wages yet.
Carbo: All this hardware... I ain't never been in a gunfight.
Miss Jones: Killing a man don't prove you're a man.
Miss Jones: Rosie, how many times you been married?
Rosie: Eleven. Ten without a preacher or license.
Miss Jones: Well, did you love any of 'em?
Rosie: Oh, all of 'em! Every one of 'em! The good and the bad. It's a shame to waste all that prime beef on a guy serving three to five in a prison. Do you keep in touch?
Miss Jones: Oh, he's kind of a lousy letter writer.
Rosie: A lousy bank robber, too.
Sam Clayton: No family?
[indicates his horse]
Mister: . Oh, you know saddle tramps. They sign on, drive the beef a thousand miles, make your mark, draw your pay and move on to the next ranch. Another roundup and another drive. Hired... fired... and move on.
Sam Clayton: Well, it's never bothered me none.
Mister: No, me neither when I was thirty years lighter.
Miss Jones: For a family who don't know a jackass from a mule, you sure know a lot about the West.
Jack Parker: We don't have to know about it. We, ah, we own it.
Gebhardt: I heard your newspaper is running an honest race.
Reporter: You heard right, Mr. Gebhardt.
Gebhardt: Who the hell handicapped this owlhead as the favorite?
J.B. Parker: The smart money!
Gebhardt: That's what we come to get.
Reporter: Two important regulations. Rule One...
Reporter: Rule One: each horse must carry no less than 160 pounds including rider, saddle and extras. Rule Two: You'll be issued a compass and a map for each leg of the race. On it, you will find the safest route. You don't need to take it. You do have to make every checkpoint. Miss one, you're disqualified - out of the race. Any questions? Jump off time - six in the morning.
[Matthews ignores Carbo's challenge for a gunfight]
Mister: You done right. A boy lookin' for a reputation is the most dangerous thing alive.
Norfolk: It certainly wasn't worth dyin' for.
Miss Jones: What is?
[when the enraged Carbo starts after Matthews when the older man's back is turned, Mister intervenes with a drawn pistol]
Mister: My eyes ain't as good as his'n. I might miss and then you'd be dead and I'd be out of the race... for abusin' a dumb animal. Bad for you... worse for me.
Prostitute: Mister? How do you like it, Mister?
Sam Clayton: Without conversation.
Sam Clayton: You know, I'm un-American.
Luke Matthews: What's that?
Sam Clayton: Well, I don't know exactly, except if you're not the best, the first and the greatest - if you don't win, then you're not American.
Sam Clayton: The people some people marry. I wasn't worth her spit.
Reporter: To the West!
Norfolk: Awesome and inspiring.
Jack Parker: I don't see what's so inspiring about a flash flood or a blizzard, or a landslide or a sandstorm or a dust storm or any sudden disaster, personal or financial. Today the desert will broil you royal, tomorrow the mountain will freeze you stiff. That's your West: violent, treacherous. Every prairie dog hole is a gold mine, every molehill is a mountain, every creek is a river and everybody you meet is a liar.
Miss Jones: When you call me that smile, stranger.
Mexican: The father of your father, he was truly Mexicano?
Sam Clayton: Nah
Mexican: But you are simpatico?
Sam Clayton: [rides away] Had a toothache once.
Luke Matthews: I want you to tell me the story of your life. Just skip everything up till the last fifteen minutes.
Luke Matthews: [handing Rosie money for prostitutes] Two of the best for two of the best.
Luke Matthews: [hugging Rosie] I forgot how good a bad woman feels.
Rosie: Flattery and money will get you anything.
Sam Clayton: [holding up heroin tablets] You ever try this?
Prostitute: Mister, I've tried everything but confession.
Norfolk: How much does Parker pay you? Fifty dollars a month? Sixty? Win this race and you could have three years' salary!
Sam Clayton: Mister, did you ever see a horse run himself to death just to please the man on his back? What's the horse get out of it? Cracked bones? Colic? See his picture in the paper? Horse doesn't give a damn who wins a race. Me neither.
Luke Matthews: [to young toughs] Don't you know Sam Clayton? Defender of dumb animals? Damsels in distress? Champion of lost causes?
Sam Clayton: How ya' been?
Luke Matthews: Fine, till *you* showed up.
Sam Clayton: [showing the newspaper to the horse] Well, you're in the papers... and I'm in the shithouse.
Luke Matthews: [referring to the motorcycle] How do you start it, how do you make it go, and how do you stop it?
Luke Matthews: [counting out money from a roll] You're gonna need moving money.
Sam Clayton: [tending to his horse] Who says I'm movin'?
Luke Matthews: Stayin' takes even more... costs ten dollars just to get drunk.
Sam Clayton: I'm gonna stay sober.
Luke Matthews: Fifteen dollars for a hot bath.
Sam Clayton: Guess I just won't bathe.
Luke Matthews: Thirty dollars for an all-night woman.
[Clayton stops, pauses, sticks out his hand for the money]
Sam Clayton: [after hitting Carbo on the side of the head] Hurts, don't it?
Sam Clayton: Who won the Gans - Nelson fight?
Luke Matthews: Gans, by knockout in the 42nd round. Greatest fight I ever saw.
Sam Clayton: [to Norfolk, referring to a previous conversation] Gans! In the 42nd round!