One Stab: Tristan died in 1963. The moon of the popping trees. He was last seen up in the North Country, where the hunting was still good. His grave is unmarked, but it does not matter. He had always lived in the borderland anyway, somewhere between this world and the Other.
Nicholas Earp: Remember this, all of you. Nothing counts so much as blood. The rest are just strangers.
Jerome Lurie: Ma'am, I don't know how to tell you this.
Anita Crown: Tell me what?
Jerome Lurie: Well, your claim is worthless without your husband alive. See for yourself... second paragraph. Now ma'am, I'm sorry but it's the law. Surely you understand that.
Anita Crown: Yes, I understand that. I was worthless until I married. So now, I guess I'm worthless as a widow. Funny, I had some value as a whore.
Phil: In case we don't make it and I die first... Eat me.
Mitch: Eat you? I don't even like talking to you on the phone.
Maverick: Well, now, I bring all sorts of plusses to the table. I hardly ever bluff and I never ever cheat.
John Slade: The name's Slade.
Julian Rogers: Super. Here's an idea. Why don't you spell it out for me so I can get it right on your tombstone.