The problem, right, between rum and gin, is that gin, right, it leads to the melancholy. Whereas rum incites violence, it also allows you to be liberated from your self-doubt.
Sweetheart, whatever you’ve heard, I don’t need to make threats.[to Jessie]
Sometimes the women have to take over. Like in the war.
My fury is a thing to behold.
Men always tell their troubles to a barmaid.
Maybe it’s in us. It’s with Shelbys. It’s in our Gypsy blood. We live somewhere between life and death, waiting to move on. And in the end, we accept it. We shake hands with the devils and we walk past them.[to Tommy]
Instinct’s a funny thing.
I’m not a traitor to my class. I am just an extreme example of what a working man can achieve.
Five for peace, two for truce, one abstention. Let’s get on with the war.
You want me to write this down? Do you want me to write you a f***ing letter? Me and Arthur can’t write it down, because they haven’t invented the f***ing words.[to Lizzie]
What Polly wants will always be a mystery to me.
We’ve all got secrets, Grace.
