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Gangs of New York (2002) Poster

Quotes

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Amsterdam Vallon: When you kill a king, you don't stab him in the dark. You kill him where the entire court can watch him die.

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Amsterdam Vallon: It's a funny feeling being taken under the wing of a dragon. It's warmer than you'd think.

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Amsterdam Vallon: In the end, they put candles on the bodies so's their friends, if they had any, could know them in the dark. The city did this free of charge. Shang, Jimmy Spoils, Hell-cat, McGloin, and more. Friend or foe, didn't make no difference now. It was four days and nights before the worst of the mob was finally put down. We never knew how many New Yorkers died that week before the city was finally delivered. My father told me we was all born of blood and tribulation, and so then too was our great city. But for those of us what lived and died in them furious days, it was like everything we knew was mightily swept away. And no matter what they did to build this city up again... for the rest of time... it would be like no one ever knew we was even here.

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Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: How old are you, Amsterdam?

Amsterdam Vallon: I'm not sure, sir. I never did quite figure it.

Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: I'm forty-seven. Forty-seven years old. You know how I stayed alive this long? All these years? Fear. The spectacle of fearsome acts. Somebody steals from me, I cut off his hands. He offends me, I cut out his tongue. He rises against me, I cut off his head, stick it on a pike, raise it high up so all on the streets can see. That's what preserves the order of things. Fear.

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Amsterdam Vallon: There's more of us coming off these ships each day. I heard 15,000 Irish a week. And we're afraid of the Natives? Get all of us together, we ain't got a gang, we got an army. And all you needs is a spark. Right? Just one spark. Something to wake us all up.

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Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: At my challenge, by the ancient laws of combat, we have met at this chosen ground, to settle for good and all who holds sway over the Five Points: us natives, born right wise to this fine land, or the foreign hordes defiling it.

Native Gangs: Yeah.

Priest Vallon: By the ancient laws of combat, I accept the challenge of the so called "natives." They plague our people at every turn, but from this day out, they shall plague us no more. For let it be known, that the hand that tries to strike us from this land shall be swiftly cut down.

Irish Gangs: YEAH.

Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: Then may the Christian Lord guide my hand, against your Roman popery.

Priest Vallon: Prepare to receive the true Lord!

[the enemy gangs rush into battle]

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Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: Here's the thing. I don't give a tuppenny fuck about your moral conundrum, you meat-headed shit-sack. That's more or less the thing. And I want you to go out there... You, nobody else. None of your little minions. I want you to go out there. And I want you to punish the person who's responsible for murdering this poor little rabbit. Is that understood?

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Boss Tweed: You killed an elected official?

Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: Who elected him?

Boss Tweed: You don't know what you've done to yourself.

Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: [taps his glass eye with a knife] I know your works. You are neither cold nor hot. So because you are lukewarm, I will spew you out of my mouth. You can build your filthy world without me. I took the father. Now I'll take the son. You tell young Vallon I'm gonna paint Paradise Square with his blood. Two coats. I'll festoon my bedchamber with his guts. As for you, Mr. Tammany-fucking-Hall, you come down to the Points again, and you'll be dispatched by my own hand. Get back to your celebration and let me eat in peace.

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Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: You. Whatever your name is... what is your name?

Amsterdam Vallon: Amsterdam, sir.

Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: Amsterdam... I'm New York... don't you never come in here empty handed again, you gotta pay for the pleasure of my company.

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Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: He was the only man I ever killed worth remembering.

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Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: You see this knife? I'm gonna teach you to speak English with this fucking knife!

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Boss Tweed: Remember the first rule of politics. The ballots don't make the results, the counters make the results. The counters. Keep counting.

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Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: Thank God. I die a true American.

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[Amsterdam goes to wipe blood off razor]

Priest Vallon: No son, never. The blood stays on the blade. One day you'll understand.

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Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: Mulberry Street... and Worth... Cross and Orange... and Little Water. Each of the Five Points is a finger. When I close my hand it becomes a fist. And, if I wish, I can turn it against you.

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Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: I killed the last honorable man, 15 years ago. Since then it's... You seen his portrait downstairs?

Amsterdam Vallon: Mm-hmm.

Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: 'S your mouth all glued-up with cunny juice? I asked you a question!

Amsterdam Vallon: [angrily] I said I *seen* it, sir.

Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: [smiling] Oh, you got a murderous rage in you! I like it. So much life boiling up in you. That's good!

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Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: You mother-whoring Irish nigger.

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Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: The Priest and me, we lived by the same principles. It was only faith divided us. He gave me this, you know? That was the finest beating I ever took. My face was pulp. My guts was pierced, my ribs was all mashed up. And when he came to finish me, I couldn't look him in the eye. He spared me, because he wanted me to live in shame. This was a great man. A great man. So I out out the eye that looked away, I sent it to him wrapped in blue paper. I would've cut them both out if I could have fought him blind. And I rose back up again with a full heart... and buried him in his own blood. He was the only man I ever killed worth remembering.

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Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: Is this it, Priest? The Pope's new army? A few crusty bitches and a handful of rag-tags?

Priest Vallon: Now, now, Bill, you swore this was a battle between warriors, not a bunch of Miss Nancys. So warriors is what I brought.

[more Irish gangs arrive]

O'Connell Guard Leader: The O'Connell Guard!

Plug Uglies Leader: The Plug Uglies!

Shirt Tails Leader: The Shirt Tails!

Chichesters Leader: The Chichesters!

Forty Thieves Leader: The Forty Thieves!

Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: Bene.

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Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: Why don't you burn him, see if his ashes turn green.

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Boss Tweed: You may or may not know, Bill, that everyday I go down to the waterfront with hot soup for the Irish as they come ashore. Its part of building a political base.

Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: I've noticed you there, you may have noticed me.

Boss Tweed: Indeed I have. Throwing torrents of abuse to every single person who steps off those boats.

Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: [gleefully] If only I had the guns, Mr. Tweed, I'd shoot each and every one of them before they set foot on American soil.

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[last lines]

Amsterdam Vallon: ...And no matter what they did to build this city up again, for the rest of time, it will be like no-one even knew we was ever here.

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Boss Tweed: That's the building of our country right there, Mr. Cutting. Americans aborning.

Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: I don't see no Americans. I see trespassers, Irish harps. Do a job for a nickel what a nigger does for a dime and a white man used to get a quarter for. What have they done? Name one thing they've contributed.

Boss Tweed: Votes.

Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: Votes, you say? They vote how the archbishop tells them, and who tells the archbishop? Their king in the pointy hat what sits on his throne in Rome.

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Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: A *real* native is someone who is willing to die fighting for his country. There's nothing more to it.

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Amsterdam Vallon: Lord, place the steel of the Holy Spirit in my spine and the love of the Virgin Mary in my heart.

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Walter 'Monk' McGinn: [Pins Amsterdam to the wall] That's it, that's it! Tear my head off and destruct the world! Just like the rest of the stupid Irish in this country! That's why I never ran with your dad!

Amsterdam Vallon: Get off me you crazy bastard!

Walter 'Monk' McGinn: [Leans in and whispers a line of Gaelic. Then, in English] It means, 'If you're not strong you'd better be smart.' Now I don't know if you're being too clever or too dumb, but whichever it is just remember this much. For all his faults, your father was a man who loved his people.

[Releases Amsterdam and walks away]

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Boss Tweed: The appearance of law must be upheld, especially while it's being broken.

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Walter 'Monk' McGinn: I've got forty-four notches on my club. Do you know what they're for? They're to remind me what I owe God when I die. My father was killed in battle, too. In Ireland, in the streets, fighting those who would take as their privilege what could only be got and held by the decimation of a race. That war is a thousand years old and more. We never expected it to follow us here. It didn't. It was waiting for us when we landed. Your father tried to carve out a corner of this land for his tribe. That was him, that was his dead rabbits. I often wondered... if he had lived a bit longer, would he have wanted a bit more?

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Amsterdam Vallon: Is there anyone in the five points you *haven't* fucked?

Jenny: Yes! *You!*

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[swearing in Irish immigrants as citizens at the harbor]

Army Recruiter: That document makes you a citizen, and this one makes you a private in the Union army. Now get out there and serve your country.

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Amsterdam Vallon: The past is a torch that lights our way. Where our fathers have shown us the path, we shall follow. Our faith is the weapon most feared by our enemies. For thereby shall we lift our people up against those who would destroy us.

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Amsterdam Vallon: I give you my word, this all will be finished tomorrow.

Jenny: No, it won't.

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Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: My father gave his life, making this country what it is. Murdered by the British with all of his men on the twenty fifth of July, anno domini, 1814. Do you think I'm going to help you befoul his legacy, by giving this country over to them, what's had no hand in the fighting for it? Why, because they come off a boat crawling with lice and begging you for soup.

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Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: Everything you see belongs to me, to one degree or another. The beggars and newsboys and quick thieves here in Paradise, the sailor dives and gin mills and blind tigers on the waterfront, the anglers and amusers, the she-hes and the Chinks. Everybody owes, everybody pays. Because that's how you stand up against the rising of the tide.

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Priest Vallon: Now, son, who's that?

Young Amsterdam Vallon: Saint Michael.

Priest Vallon: Who's that?

Young Amsterdam Vallon: Saint Michael!

Priest Vallon: And what did he do?

Young Amsterdam Vallon: He cast Satan out of Paradise.

Priest Vallon: Good boy!

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Amsterdam Vallon: Jenny was a Bluget, a girl pickpocket and a turtledove. A turtledove picks out a fine house, disguises herself as a housemaid and robs you blind. It takes a lot of sand to be a turtledove.

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Amsterdam Vallon: Suppose you back an Irish candidate, of my choosin', and I'll deliver all the Irish vote?

Boss Tweed: That will only happen in the reign of Queen Dick.

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[speaking of Bill the Butcher]

Jenny: I was twelve years old, my mother was dead, and I was livin' in a doorway. He took me in. Took care of me, in his way. After they cut out the baby - well, he doesn't fancy girls that's scarred up. But you should know, in your own mind, that he never laid a hand on me until I asked him to.

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Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: We hold in our hearts the memory of our fallen brothers whose blood stains the very streets we walk today. Also on this night we pay tribute to the leader of our enemies, an honorable man, who crossed over bravely, fighting for what he believed in. To defeat my enemy, I extinguish his life, and consume him as I consume these flames. In honor of Priest Vallon.

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Amsterdam Vallon: The earth turns, but we don't feel it more. And one night you look up. One spark and the whole sky is on fire.

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Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: That, my friends, is the minority vote.

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[as Monk McGinn runs for Sheriff]

Boss Tweed: That man was right born for this.

Amsterdam Vallon: He's killed 44 men, and laid low a couple hundred more.

Boss Tweed: Is that right? We should have run him for mayor.

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[as a man is about to be hung]

Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: That's a fine locket. I'll give you a dollar for it.

Arthur: It was me mother's...

Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: Dollar and a half?

Arthur: Done.

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Amsterdam Vallon: Challenge.

Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: Challenge accepted.

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Boss Tweed: You're a good one for the fighting, Bill. But you can't fight forever.

Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: I can go down doing it.

Boss Tweed: And you will!

Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: What did you say?

Boss Tweed: I said, you're turning your back on the future.

Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: Not our future.

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Jenny: [after running into Johnny] Look where you are going, Johnny!

[notices Amsterdam]

Jenny: You look stunned and poorly, sir.

[both of the men are silent and nervous]

Jenny: [sarcastic] Quite a pair of conversationists, aren't you.

Amsterdam Vallon: Maybe not. We're deep thinkers.

Jenny: [chuckles] Well then. Gentlemen, I leave you in the grace and favour of the Lord.

[walks off]

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Amsterdam Vallon: I've been called a lot of things, mister... but I've never been called...?

McGloin: Fiddeling bends.

Amsterdam Vallon: Fiddeling bends. Right. If I knew what in the hell that meant... I might be inclined to take offense.

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Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: I took the father, now I'll take the son.

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[after someone speaks to him in Irish Gaelic]

Boss Tweed: They don't speak English in New York any more?

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Walter 'Monk' McGinn: Well that was bloody Shakespearian.

Amsterdam Vallon: What?

Walter 'Monk' McGinn: Do you know who Shakespeare was, Sonny? He was the fellow who wrote the King James Bible.

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Happy Jack: I'm paid to uphold the law.

Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: What in Heaven's name are you talking about?

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Amsterdam Vallon: New York loved William Tweed... and hated him but for those of us trying to be thieves, we couldn't help but admire him.

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Irish Singer: [singing] Well, meself and a hundred more, to America sailed o'er, with our fortunes to be made, so we were thinkin' / When we got to Yankee land, they shoved a gun into our hands / Saying "Paddy, you must go and fight for Lincoln."/ There is nothing here but war, where the murderin' cannons roar, and I wish I was back home in dear old Dublin.

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Young Johnny Sirocco: Oy! Boyo!

Young Amsterdam Vallon: Johnny.

Young Johnny Sirocco: What you doin', boyo?

Young Amsterdam Vallon: There's a battle. The natives against the dead rabbits.

Young Johnny Sirocco: Which side are you on?

Young Amsterdam Vallon: What do you think?

[points behind him]

Young Amsterdam Vallon: Dead rabbits.

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Boss Tweed: Bill, I can't get a days work done for all the good citizens coming in here to harass me about crime in the Points. Some even go so far as to accuse Tammany of connivance in this so-called rampant criminality. What am I to do? I can't have this. Something has to be done.

Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: What do you have in mind?

Boss Tweed: I don't know. I think maybe we should hang someone.

Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: Who?

Boss Tweed: No one important, necessarily. Average men will do. Back alley amusers with no affiliations.

Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: How many?

Boss Tweed: Three or four.

Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: Which?

Boss Tweed: Four.

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Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: Well draw it mildly son. Happy Jack don't fill his lungs without I tell him he may do so.

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Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: Now that you've had a taste of my mutton, how do you like it?

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Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: He ain't earned a death! He ain't a death at my hands! No, he'll walk amongst you marked with shame, a freak worthy of Barnum's Museum of Wonders. God's only man, spared by the Butcher.

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Priest Vallon: Well well, Monk. Are you with us or not?

Walter 'Monk' McGinn: For the last time Vallon, I'm with you if the money's right.

Priest Vallon: I'll give you ten per notch.

Walter 'Monk' McGinn: Ten?

Priest Vallon: You have my word.

Walter 'Monk' McGinn: [Picks up his shillelagh] Ten per notch?

Priest Vallon: Per *new* notch.

Walter 'Monk' McGinn: [Looks at the notches already there, and loops his weapon around his wrist] Then I'm your man.

[Turns around and kicks the door open]

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Priest Vallon: Don't never look away.

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Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: On the seventh day the Lord rested, but before that he did, he squatted over the side of England and what came out of him... was Ireland. No offense son.

Amsterdam Vallon: Nah, none taken, sir. I grew up here. All I ever knew of Ireland was from the talk of the others at the orphan asylum.

Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: And which part of that excrementitious isle where your forebears spawned?

Amsterdam Vallon: I've been told Kerry, I lost proof of it in my language at the asylum.

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Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: [about Priest] Ears and noses will be the trophies of the day. But no hand shall touch him. NO hand shall touch him! He'll cross over whole. With honor.

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McGloin: What's a nigger doing in the church?

Amsterdam Vallon: What's a Dead Rabbit doing with the Natives, huh?

McGloin: No niggers among the Natives. Niggers as robbers is one thing, but, niggers in a church, that's something else!

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Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: Hey, have you met Amsterdam? He almost fish-hooked McGloin.

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Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: Anything in your pockets?

Jenny: I ain't started working yet.

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Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: Is this the Pope's new army?

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Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: Don't mind him. He used to be an Irishman.

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Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: Alright, line 'm up. It's Election Day!

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[as the Irish are drafted as they come ashore]

Irish Immigrant: Where we goin'?

Another Immigrant: I heard Tennessee.

Irish Immigrant: Where's that?

Irish Soldier: Do they feed us now?

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[as an anti-draft riot takes place]

Boss Tweed: Sweet Jesus, war does terrible things to people.

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Killoran: Monk's already won by three thousand more votes than there are voters.

Boss Tweed: Only three? Make it twenty, thirty. We don't need a victory. We need a Roman triumph.

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Miss Schermerhorn: Is that man drunk?

Happy Jack: Och, dead as Good Friday, miss.

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Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: Careful, Tweedy. The Mort's Frenchified.

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McGloin: Father! Jesus, did you know there's a nigger in ya church?

[the priest hits him in the head with his staff]

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Amsterdam Vallon: Our name is called "The Dead Rabbits" to remind all of our suffering, and as a call to those who suffer still to join our ranks. However far they may have strayed from our common home across the sea. For with great numbers must come great strength in the salvation of our people.

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Amsterdam Vallon: [the failed assassin is dying] I think he's making his peace with God.

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Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: [to Amsterdam, while watching an African American man dancing an Irish jig on top of a table in a brothel] Look at that. What in Christ's name is that? Rhythms of the Dark Continent thrown into the kettle with an Irish shindig. Stir it around a few times, pull it out, it's a fine American mess. A jig doing a jig.

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Mr. Schermerhorn: What is it you are so fond of saying, Mr. Tweed? Mr. Greely, you won't like this... but what is it?

Boss Tweed: I don't remember.

Mr. Schermerhorn: You can always hire one half of the poor... to kill the other half.

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Boss Tweed: We're burying a lot of votes tonight.

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Boss Tweed: You know why he wears short sleeves? So they can see he's got nothing stashed. I hope that never becomes the fashion.

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Miss Schermerhorn: How do you do, Mr. Cutting?

[extends her hand]

Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: As of this moment, extremely well. Thank you. How do you do?

[leans down and smells her hand]

Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: Orange blossoms. Delicious.

Happy Jack: Mr. Cutting is...

Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: [to Mr. Schermerhorn] What a peach! You had a fine career on the stage.

Happy Jack: ...one of the Five Points local...

Mrs. Schermerhorn: Please to meet you, sir.

Happy Jack: ...leaders.

Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: Mr. Greeeley!

Horace Greeley: Pleased to meet you, Mr. Cutting.

Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: The Five Points welcomes you to these streets and you shall pass in safety.

Happy Jack: Oh, I'll see to their safety. Thank you, Bill. This way. Good day lads. Criminals who brag a dote show, you see.

Horace Greeley: [walking away] He knows who I am.

Happy Jack: Oh, in deed sir. You're well known in these parts.

Horace Greeley: I find that - strangely flattering.

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Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: This is a night for Americans!

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Priest Vallon: Prepare to meet the true lord.

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Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: [after stabbing Priest] Look to me! Who is this under my knife!

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Happy Jack: Thank ye boys. You keep out of trouble now!

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Assassin: For the blood of the Irish!

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Happy Jack: Pennies in their pockets and hope in their eyes. They peer to the west. Searching the horizon for a glimpse of land and salvation. Ah, a glimpse of America.

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Johnny Sirocco: It's not a matter of words, I can tell by the way she smiles at me.

Amsterdam Vallon: Well, she smiles at a lot of people, John.

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Amsterdam Vallon: [voice over] That was the Five Points alright: hangings of a morning, dancings of an evening.

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Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: You get to know a lot by butchering meat. We're made up of the same things. Flesh and blood. Tissue. Organs. I love to work with pigs. The nearest thing in nature to the flesh of a man, is the flesh of a pig.

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Happy Jack: I come for my due and proper.

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Bill The Butcher: This is a day for America.

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Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: Civilization is crumbling

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Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: Whose man are you?

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Walter 'Monk' McGinn: This man is trying to draw me into an argument!

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Walter 'Monk' McGinn: Is that meself looking as sober as the day I was born?

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Reverend Raleigh: Regular services are held at the church at 6 and 8.

Amsterdam Vallon: Go to hell.

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Amsterdam Vallon: [narrating about New York] It wasn 't a city really. It was more a furnace where a city someday might be forged.

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Amsterdam Vallon: [voice over] Ah, the Five Points! Murderer's Alley. Brickbat Mansion. The Gates of Hell.

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Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: That's the spirit boys. Go off and die for your blackie friends. We should have run a better man against Lincoln when we had the chance.

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Amsterdam Vallon: [voice over] Every year the Reformers came. Every year the Points got worse. As if it liked being dirty.

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Amsterdam Vallon: [voice over] Some of it I have remembered. And the rest I took from dreams.

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Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: Priest Vallon died a noble death. But his Dead Rabbits is *done* and outlawed! Let no one even speak their name from this time on.

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Johnny Sirocco: Jenny, finest bludget in all the Points.

Amsterdam Vallon: She is a prim looking star gazer! But I'd check my pockets if I was you. Because I do believe she lifted your time piece.

Johnny Sirocco: [looks in his coat] Well, I let her take it. I let here take things all the time.

Amsterdam Vallon: Is that right?

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Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: These two are just a pair of bug eating sons of Irish bitches. Just like you.

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Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: What's that word?

Amsterdam Vallon: Eh, it means bodysnatchers.

Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: I didn't ask the meaning. I asked the word.

Amsterdam Vallon: Ghoul.

Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: Ghoul? That's a good word. "Ghoul Gang Slaughters: A Fresh Outrage in the Five Points." That's a notice you can be proud of.

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Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: I like a man who's willing to burn for his swag.

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Amsterdam Vallon: Suppose I help myself to everything. Huh?

Jenny: Suppose you do.

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Jenny: I don't want to see you again!

Amsterdam Vallon: I don't blame you.

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Jenny: Go back to the Points and let me do my business or I will open your throat, so help me God.

Amsterdam Vallon: Alright. Go on then.

Jenny: I would.

Amsterdam Vallon: Go on then.

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Amsterdam Vallon: [voice over] For every lay we had a different name. An Angler put a hook on the end of a stick to drop behind store windows and doors. An Autumn Diver picked your pocket in church. A Badger, gets a fellow in bed with a girl and then robs his pockets while they're on the go.

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Amsterdam Vallon: What do you care to the Butcher?

Jenny: Me? Nothin'.

Amsterdam Vallon: Nothin'?

Jenny: The Butcher and me have a special arrangement.

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Amsterdam Vallon: What happens at the finish?

Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: Then we have ourselves a rowdydow! Ain't you never been to the theatre before?

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Jenny: Don't tell me you're angry with me?

Amsterdam Vallon: No, I'm through with you.

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Walter 'Monk' McGinn: You're a thick, ignorant Irish welp! Just like your father.

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Walter 'Monk' McGinn: Citizens of the Five Points! Mr. Bill Cutting is attempting to draw me into an argument that would no doubt end in bloodshed and the compromising of my office. Well, what do you think? Shall I engage in silence, this relic of the ancient law? Or, shall I be your chosen voice in a new testament, in the new world?

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Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: Amsterdam. Amsterdam! New York is calling you.

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Amsterdam Vallon: Here's another one! Clean him up good. Shave the beards off boys and send them back to vote again. Alright boys, vote Tammany.

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Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting: [walking through an opium den] Rise and shine, rise and shine. In this great country of ours, even hop fiends get to vote.

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Johnny Sirocco: The Five Points. Paradise square! The streets here are always livelier in the evening.

Amsterdam Vallon: Who are the gangs around now?

Johnny Sirocco: We got the Daybreak boys and the Swamp Angels. They work the River Luton ships. The Frog Haulers shanghai sailors down around the bloody angle. Shortails were rough for awhile, but they became a bunch of jackrolling dandies. Lolling around Murderer's Alley looking like Chinamen. Hellcat Maggie she tried to open up her own grog shop. But she drunk up all her own liquor and got thrown out on the street. Now she's on the lay for anything. There's the Plug Uglies, they're from somewhere in the old country. They got their own language. No one understands what they're saying. They love to fight the cops. And the Nightwalkers and Ratpickers. They work on their backs and kill with their hands. They're so scurvy, only the Plug Uglies will talk with them. But who knows what they're saying. The Slaughterhouses and the Broadway Twisters are a fine bunch of Bengal boys! And the little Forty Thieves. I used to run with them for a while. Till they got taken over by Benjer the Cockroach and his red eyed buggers. Benjer carry's a germ. If you try to leave the gang, they say he hacks up blood off you... The True Blue Americans call themselves a gang; but, all they really do is stand around on corners damning England...

Amsterdam Vallon: Anything about the sand of the Dead Rabbits?

Johnny Sirocco: You don't say that name. That name died with your... They been outlawed.

Amsterdam Vallon: When I was in the blockhouse, the chinks told me that the Natives celebrate their victory every year. Is that true?

Johnny Sirocco: Aye, that they do.

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Amsterdam Vallon: [voice over] Every year the Natives celebrated the killing of my father all over again. At Sparrow's Chinese Pagoda in Mott street. The chinks hated the Natives worse than we did. The drum rolls and the Butcher drinks a glass of fire.

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Jenny: That one.

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Shang: [Runs at the soldiers] Bastards!

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See also

Trivia | Goofs | Crazy Credits | Alternate Versions | Connections | Soundtracks

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