I'm tired, boss. Tired of bein' on the road, lonely as a sparrow in the rain. Tired of not ever having me a buddy to be with, or tell me where we's coming from or going to, or why. Mostly I'm tired of people being ugly to each other. I'm tired of all the pain I feel and hear in the world everyday.
Oh, great. You get the girl, I get the coroner.
Go back to Jersey, sonny. This is the City of the Angels, and you haven't got any wings.
On the day of my judgment, when I stand before God, and He asks me why did I kill one of his true miracles, what am I gonna say? That it was my job? My job?
People hurt the ones they love. That's how it is all around the world.
Some men get the world. Others get ex-hookers and a trip to Arizona.
A naked man with a gun? Do you really expect anyone to believe that?