Miss Jones:
I've been around a lot of cowhands, one way or another. A cowboy dresses from the top down. The first thing on is his hat. And he undresses from the bottom up. Last thing off... hat. Oh, and another thing - to be a cowpuncher, that don't mean you actually got to go around punching them, you know.

Mister:
God, what ain't I tried. Pony express rider, Overland Stage driver, lawman, gambler, riverman, rancher, rodeo hand, barman, spittoon man... old man. Never much to remember. Of course, there ain't much to forget, either. Nobody's got much use for an old man. I can't blame 'em much. That's why I'm going to win this here newspaper race. When I cross the finish line, I get to be a big man. Top man. A man to remember.

Mister:
I've never saw a man who could hold his liquor like a bottle.

Mister:
Ever prospected? Ever hit pay dirt? I've dug for gold, silver, lead, mercury. I've dug more holes than a whole regiment of gophers. I ain't never dug a decent day's wages yet.

Carbo:
All this hardware... I ain't never been in a gunfight.

Miss Jones:
Killing a man don't prove you're a man.

Miss Jones:
Rosie, how many times you been married?

Rosie:
Eleven. Ten without a preacher or license.

Miss Jones:
Well, did you love any of 'em?

Rosie:
Oh, all of 'em! Every one of 'em! The good and the bad. It's a shame to waste all that prime beef on a guy serving three to five in a prison. Do you keep in touch?

Miss Jones:
Oh, he's kind of a lousy letter writer.

Rosie:
A lousy bank robber, too.

Sam Clayton:
No family?

Mister:
Him (indicates her horse). Oh, you know saddle tramps. They sign on, drive the beef a thouand miles, make your mark, draw your pay and move on to the next ranch. Another roundup and another drive. Hired... fired... and move on.

Sam Clayton:
Well, it's never bothered me none.

Mister:
No, me neither when I was thirty years lighter.

Miss Jones:
For a family who don't know a jackass from a mule, you sure know a lot about the west.

Jack Parker:
We don't have to know about it. We, ah, we own it.