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Hell, I’m twenty-eight years old. You dont look it. Yeah? You look forty-eight. Pass the whiskey.
You go back home and everthing you wished was different is still the same and everthing you wished was the same is different.
If I think about what I wanted as a kid and what I want now they aint the same thing. I guess what I wanted wasnt what I wanted.
What’s this we shit? You got a rat in your pocket?
Anyways the dogs wont hunt on Sunday either. They’re Christian dogs.
He was dead standin there. Thing I remember is how quick he fell down. Just dead weight. The movies dont ever get that part right neither.
For each event is revealed to us only at the surrender of every alternate course.
