Ezra: When the sanctified dead rise from their graves to receive judgment, I'll start doling out cash.
Josiah: Now that there's divine intervention. Me, I was gonna shoot your hand off.
Chris: I was thinkin' about whiskey, a room, a bed, more whiskey.
Ezra: You're sneaky, I'll give you that, but you're? you're? help me out here, Buck.
Buck: You are crookeder than a yellow-bellied snake makin' its way through a prickly pear patch.
Ezra: Thank you.
Ezra: Calls to mind the decline and fall of Rome which.
Josiah: Ezra, shut up.
