Chicks dig me, because I rarely wear underwear and when I do it’s usually something unusual.
You must forgive my lips…they find pleasure in the most unusual places.
When we reach the crescendo, you will die… of pleasure. Your end will be swift but sweet. Very sweet.
“You know, it’s legal for me to take you down to the station and sweat it out of you under the lights.”
“I sweat a lot better in the dark.”
Miss Carlson, you stated that you handcuffed Andrew Marsh before having sex with him the night of his death.
I’m not going to play any games with you.
A strange game. The only winning move is not to play. How about a nice game of chess?
Why don’t you just put it in the bank Charlie? That’s what I’ve always done with my prize money.
Money won is twice as sweet as money earned.
Look, you wanna hustle pool, don’t you? This game isn’t like football. Nobody pays you for yardage. When you hustle you keep score real simple. The end of the game you count up your money. That’s how you find out who’s best. That’s the only way.
Well, it’s all just numbers really. Just changing what you’re adding up. And, to speak freely, the money here is considerably more attractive.
Money’s only something you need in case you don’t die tomorrow…
I think in all fairness, I should explain to you exactly what it is that I do. For instance tomorrow morning I’ll get up nice and early, take a walk down over to the bank and… walk in and see and, uh… if you don’t have my money for me, I’ll… crack your fuckin’ head wide-open in front of everybody in the bank. And just about the time that I’m comin’ out of jail, hopefully, you’ll be coming out of your coma. And guess what? I’ll split your fuckin’ head open again. ‘Cause I’m fuckin’ stupid. I don’t give a fuck about jail. That’s my business. That’s what I do.
What I do requires a certain mindset. I do assignments; designated targets. Some jobs need to look like accidents. Others must cast suspicion on someone else. A select few need to send a clear message. Pulling a trigger is easy. The best jobs are the ones nobody even knows you were there.
Money is paid, but that’s not the motive. It has to do with standing outside of it all, on your own.
… some men aren’t looking for anything logical, like money. They can’t be bought, bullied, reasoned, or negotiated with. Some men just want to watch the world burn.
Well there are some men who… hmmm how shall I put it? Well they’re very fond of their mothers… They like to share bits of gossip… collect recipes.
Tell you what, we coulda had a good life together! Fuckin’ real good life! Had us a place of our own. But you didn’t want it, Ennis! So what we got now is Brokeback Mountain! Everything’s built on that! That’s all we got, boy, fuckin’ all. So I hope you know that, even if you don’t never know the rest! You count the damn few times we have been together in nearly twenty years and you measure the short fucking leash you keep me on - and then you ask me about Mexico and tell me you’ll kill me for needing somethin’ I don’t hardly never get. You have no idea how bad it gets! I’m not you… I can’t make it on a coupla high-altitude fucks once or twice a year! You are too much for me Ennis, you sonofawhoreson bitch! I wish I knew how to quit you.
Now you know what the Welsh say about people who stay on mountain peaks at night, don’t you?
A chorus line of soap stars and homosexuals.