Paladin: You suspect violence.
Arthur: Mmmph. With brother Courtney the victim? It's hardly likely.
Beatrice: How can you say that?
Arthur: Because I've encountered hundreds like him. This nation has produced a bumper crop. The Bad Check Fraternity. Brotherhood of the I.O.U.
Beatrice: That's not being fair...
Arthur: I'm being honest. That's what Mr. Paladin needs--honesty at this end, if not at the other. The quick smile, the empty promise, the moist handshake, that's what you look for. And when you feel the sudden thrust of a knife between your shoulders, that's when you know you've found Courtney Burgess.
Beatrice: My husband's merchant's mind fails to acknowledge that... some men are born special. Destined for more than keeping ledgers.
Hodges: You must be fond of that gun.
Paladin: I've grown attached to it.
Hodges: You gonna kill me?
Paladin: Should I?
Hodges: Well, if you're takin' a ballot, I vote no. It's the Colonel you've come for, I suppose.
Paladin: Now, how would you know that?
Hodges: Well, mister, everybody comes lookin' for the Colonel, it's a regional sport, like lacrosse.
Paladin: This man isn't drunk. He's ill!
Paladin: Typhoid? Well, that'd account for the empty water barrels, but what about those three in the orderly room, now typhoid didn't take them out.
Hodges: Oh, would you believe it, out of a company of twelve, all but those three defected? You know, once Nature turns on Man, it ain't but a hop, skip, and a jump 'til Man turns on himself.
Paladin: Well, this man's sick. He needs a doctor, he needs medicine.
Hodges: There're folks in Hell who need an ice water.