Movie Quotes Blog

Bill:
Is this it priest, the Pope’s new army, a few crusty bitches and a hand full of rag tags?

Priest Vallon:
Now, now, Bill, you swore this was a battle between warriors, not a bunch of miss nancies, so warriors is what I brought.

[various Irish Gangs proceed to appear]

---

[as the Irish are drafted as they come ashore]

Irish Immigrant:
Where we goin’?

Another Immigrant:
I heard Tennessee.

Irish Immigrant:
Where’s that?

Irish Soldier:
Do they feed us now?

---

[as Monk McGinn runs for Sheriff]

Boss Tweed:
That man was right born for this.

Amsterdam Vallon:
He’s killed 44 men, and laid low a couple hundred more.

Boss Tweed:
Is that right? We should have run him for mayor.

---

Bill:
Well draw it mildly son. Happy Jack don’t fill his lungs without I tell him he may do so.

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Bill:
At my challenge, by the ancient laws of combat, we are met at this chosen ground, to settle for good and all who holds sway over the five points: us natives, born rightwise to this fine land, or the foreign hordes defiling it.

Crowd:
Yeah.

Priest Vallon:
By the ancient laws of combat, I accept the challenge of the so called “natives.” They plague our people at every turn, but from this day out, they shall plague us no more. For let it be known, that the hand that tries to strike us from this land shall be swiftly cut down.

Crowd:
YEAH.

---

Bill:
A *real* native is someone who is willing to die fighting for his country. There’s nothing more to it.

---

Bill:
You. Whatever your name is… what is your name?

Amsterdam Vallon:
Amsterdam, sir.

Bill:
Amsterdam… I’m New York… don’t you never come in here empty handed again, you gotta pay for the pleasure of my company.

---

Priest Vallon:
Prepare to meet the true lord.

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Boss Tweed:
Bill, I can’t get a days work done for all the good citizens coming in here to harass me about crime in the Points. Some even go so far as to accuse Tammany of connivance in this so-called rampant criminality. What am I to do? I can’t have this. Something has to be done.

Bill:
What do you have in mind?

Boss Tweed:
I don’t know. I think maybe we should hang someone.

Bill:
Who?

Boss Tweed:
No one important, necessarily. Average men will do. Back alley amusers with no affiliations.

Bill:
How many?

Boss Tweed:
Three or four.

Bill:
Which?

Boss Tweed:
Four.

---

Boss Tweed:
You may or may not know, Bill, that everyday I go down to the waterfront with hot soup for the Irish as they come ashore. Its part of building a political base.

Bill:
I’ve noticed you there, you may have noticed me.

Boss Tweed:
Indeed I have. Throwing torrents of abuse to every single person who steps off those boats.

Bill:
[gleefully] If only I had the guns, Mr. Tweed, I’d shoot each and every one of them before they set foot on American soil.

---

Bill:
On the seventh day the Lord rested, but before that he did, he squatted over the side of England and what came out of him… was Ireland. No offense son.

Amsterdam Vallon:
Nah, none taken, sir. I grew up here. All I ever knew of Ireland was from the talk of the others at the orphan asylum.

Bill:
And which part of that excrementitious isle where your forebears spawned?

Amsterdam Vallon:
I’ve been told Kerry, I lost proof of it in my language at the asylum.

---

Boss Tweed:
You killed an elected official?

Bill:
Who elected him?

Boss Tweed:
You don’t know what you’ve done to yourself.

Bill:
[taps his glass eye with a knife] I know your works. You are neither cold nor hot. So because you are lukewarm, I will spew you out of my mouth. You can build your filthy world without me. I took the father. Now I’ll take the son. You tell young Vallon I’m gonna paint Paradise Square with his blood. Two coats. I’ll festoon my bedchamber with his guts. As for you, Mr. Tammany-f*cking-Hall, you come down to the Points again, and you’ll be dispatched by my own hand. Get back to your celebration and let me eat in peace.

---

Amsterdam Vallon:
Suppose you back an Irish candidate, of my choosin’, and I’ll deliver all the Irish vote?

Boss Tweed:
That will only happen in the reign of Queen Dick.

---

[speaking of Bill the Butcher]

Jenny:
When I was twelve years old, my mother was dead, and I was livin’ in a doorway. He took me in. Took care of me, in his way. After they cut out the baby… well, he doesn’t fancy girls that’s scarred up. But you might as well know in your own mind that he never laid a hand on me until I asked him to.

---

Boss Tweed:
Remember the first rule of politics. The ballots don’t make the results, the counters make the results. The counters. Keep counting.

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Amsterdam Vallon:
Challenge.

Bill:
Challenge accepted.

---

Bill:
I killed the last honorable man, 15 years ago. Since then it’s… You seen his portrait downstairs?

Amsterdam Vallon:
Mm-hmm.

Bill:
‘S your mouth all glued-up with cunny juice? I asked you a question!

Amsterdam Vallon:
[angrily] I said I *seen* it, sir.

Bill:
[smiling] Oh, you got a murderous streak in you!

---

Bill:
We hold in our hearts the memory of our fallen brothers whose blood stains the very streets we walk today. Also on this night we pay tribute to the leader of our enemies, an honorable man, who crossed over bravely, fighting for what he believed in. To defeat my enemy, I extinguish his life, and consume him as I consume these flames. In honor of Priest Vallon.

---

Bill:
[after stabbing Priest] Look to me! Who is this under my knife!

---

Bill:
Burn him, see if his ashes turn green.

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Bill:
Mulberry Street… and Worth… Cross and Orange… and Little Water. Each of the Five Points is a finger. When I close my hand it becomes a fist. And, if I wish, I can turn it against you.

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Amsterdam Vallon:
New York loved William Tweed… and hated him but for those of us trying to be thieves, we couldn’t help but admire him.

---

Amsterdam Vallon:
Lord, place the steel of the Holy Spirit in my spine and the love of the Virgin Mary in my heart.

---

Bill:
He was the only man I ever killed worth remembering.

---

Happy Jack:
I come for my due and proper.

---

Miss Schermerhorn:
Is that man drunk?

Happy Jack:
Och, dead as Good Friday, miss.

---

Bill:
Everything you see belongs to me, to one degree or another. The beggars and newsboys and quick thieves here in Paradise, the sailor dives and gin mills and blind tigers on the waterfront, the anglers and amusers, the she-hes and the Chinks. Everybody owes, everybody pays. Because that’s how you stand up against the rising of the tide.

---

Bill:
Anything in your pockets?

Jenny:
I ain’t started working yet.

---

Boss Tweed:
You know why he wears short sleeves? So they can see he’s got nothing stashed. I hope that never becomes the fashion.

---

Killoran:
Monk’s already won by three thousand more votes than there are voters.

Boss Tweed:
Only three? Make it twenty, thirty. We don’t need a victory. We need a Roman triumph.

---

[as an anti-draft riot takes place]

Boss Tweed:
Sweet Jesus, war does terrible things to people.

---

Amsterdam Vallon:
Is there anyone in the five points you *haven’t* f*cked?

Jenny:
Yes! *You!*

---

[last lines]

Amsterdam Vallon:
…And no matter what they did to build this city up again, for the rest of time, it will be like no-one even knew we was ever here.

---

Bill:
It’s Election Day.

---

Bill:
Hey, have you met Amsterdam? He almost fish-hooked McGloin.

---

Amsterdam Vallon:
It’s a funny feeling being taken under the wing of a dragon. It’s warmer than you’d think.

---

Bill:
Careful, Tweedy. The Mort’s Frenchified.

---

Boss Tweed:
That’s the building of our country right there, Mr. Cutting. Americans aborning.

Bill:
I don’t see no Americans. I see trespassers, Irish harps. Do a job for a nickel what a nigger does for a dime and a white man used to get a quarter for. What have they done? Name one thing they’ve contributed.

Boss Tweed:
Votes.

Bill:
Votes, you say? They vote how the archbishop tells them, and who tells the archbishop? Their king in the pointy hat what sits on his throne in Rome.

---

Amsterdam Vallon:
When you kill a king, you don’t stab him in the dark. You kill him where the entire court can watch him die.

---

Young Johnny Sirocco:
Oy! Boyo!

Young Amsterdam Vallon:
Johnny.

Young Johnny Sirocco:
What you doin’, boyo?

Young Amsterdam Vallon:
There’s a battle. The natives against the dead rabbits.

Young Johnny Sirocco:
Which side are you on?

Young Amsterdam Vallon:
What do you think?

[points behind him]

Young Amsterdam Vallon:
Dead rabbits.

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