Prentice Ritter: [narration] We're all travelers in this world. From the sweet grass to the packing house. Birth 'til death. We travel between the eternities.
Big Rump Kate: It's stupid sack of shit who believes he can waltz into this country with a wagon full of women and thinks he ain't yn for trouble.
Gilpin: You kiss your mama with that mouth?
Prentice Ritter: This deal gets more interesting by the day, I tell you.
Tom Harte: This deal's getting less profitable by the day.
Prentice Ritter: Never use money to measure wealth, son.
Big Rump Kate: You boys thinkin' of gettin' in the skin trade? Well, let me set you straight. The gold I mine from this burg I don't get from diggin'. There ain't a shot of whiskey, a hand of poker, or any fella that wants to dip his wick that I don't get a cut of.
Tom Harte: We're just passing through.
Big Rump Kate: Whattya take for your trouble?
Gilpin: We came here to eat and have a bit of whiskey. That's it.
Big Rump Kate: C'mon. mister, everything has a price.
Tom Harte: Not everything.
Nola Johns: Most men are afraid of failure in this world. It seems like some are afraid of success.
Prentice Ritter: We're all travelers in this world - from sweet grass to the packin' house - birth till death - we travel between the eternities.