[after waking up from his "coma"] Did you fuck me when I was out?
Hell, no.
Then quit looking at me like that.
S2Complications
RRichardson
I like you.
Thank you, Richardson.
RRichardson
You're purdy.
Thank you very much. And probably that's all either of us needs to say on that subject ever again.
Had you vision as well as sight, you would recognize within me not only a man, but an institution and the future as well.
Fuck you, fuck the institution, and fuck the future!
You cannot fuck the future, sir. The future fucks you.
Do they understand how most of what happens is people being drunk and stupid and trying to find something else to blame besides that that makes their lives totally fucked? No. They don't.
I do have some particular competence as to the implications of anatomical anomalies, congenital or consequent of previous illness, and I would hope that you would avail yourself of this notwithstanding my idiosyncrasies and-and-and defects of character.
S2Something Very Expensive
You, Al, are an object lesson in the healing powers of obstinacy and a hostile disposition.
If you keep it up, we're going to fight, and you'll have to work by yourself while I convalesce.
CJCommissioner Jarry
And you, Mr. Wolcott, I find you the most severe disappointment of all.
Often to myself as well.
Lot, before God, could make no case for that food.
MMary
Lot's wife may have been in that food.
Now that's an attitude right there I want us to counsel on. Smart-alecky sort of attitude and almost with a quality of.. fuckin' anger to it. I don't find the exact fuckin' words for it, but it fuckin' disturbs and concerns me.
By my lights, I feel I manage well.
Well, you can say that, Mr. Wolcott, yet I hear accounts that you're a dangerous lay, and that adds to my feeling disturbed. Are you inclined, sir, every so often to.. 'ride one off the cliff'? Girls, I mean.
I am disturbed at my private conduct being spoken of.
Well, I should think you fuckin' would be. And to think of Mr. Hearst's disturbance if he was to fuckin' know. Because, that's a dangerous habit to indulge when you're not among friends.
Are you my friend, Mr. Tolliver?
And someone past surprise at habits or inclination, or turns of events, and who don't confuse himself far as sitting in judgment with our Lord in fuckin' heaven.
I see
And who would never tattle to your employer or jeopardize what's got to be a handsome fuckin' income. God damn right, I am your friend, Mr. Wolcott. All I can't provide for the party is the cliff.
Believing yourself past surprise does not commend you to me as a friend. A man inadequately sophisticated or merely ignorant, or simply stupid, may believe himself past surprise, then be surprised to discover, for example, that Mr. Hearst already knows of my inclinations and finds them immaterial. Suggesting as a corollary that your skills for blackmail and manipulation no longer are assets to you, and for your fatuous belief in their efficacy, in fact have become liabilities. In short, you've overplayed your hand. Now I should think, in consequence, now recognizing yourself as a man past his time, that during this last transitional period you would devote yourself with grateful and quiet diligence to such uses as others may still find you suitable.
[Muttering to himself] Past hope. Past kindness or consideration. Past justice. Past satisfaction. Past warmth or cold or comfort. Past love. But past surprise? What an endlessly unfolding tedium life would then become!
S2E.B. Was Left Out
Pain or damage don't end the world, or despair or fucking beatings. The world ends when you're dead. Until then, you got more punishment in store. Stand it like a man--and give some back.
I feel you breathing down my neck.
Should I exhale out my ass?
And I believe you're doing it intentionally.
Why? You think I believe you're a fuckin' cunt?
[turns to face Utter] If we fight, it won't be a casual matter.
Ohhh, I see you got your big fuckin' knife there, and hid somewhere on your persons you've probably got some pussified shootin' instrument. But I am good at first impressions, and you are a fucking cunt, and I DOUBT you've fought many MEN, maybe even ONE!
[regarding Sofia] You frighten her.
I have that effect.
I think specifically it was your plotting against her life.
I'd take tea
What do you wish to discuss?
The child's tutor you recently sacked..
Miss Isringhausen?
She's a Pinkerton.
I don't find that credible.
That's the way they like it. Your husband's family chartered the agency to pin his dying on you so when you're jailed or hanged they can bag your gold.
How do you support this contention?
Oh, she's come to me, and wants to give me money to confirm what she says you confessed: that you hired me to kill him.
How much have they offered?
50,000
And how much do you ask of me as commission to tell the truth?
I don't like the Pinkertons. They're muscle for the bosses, as if the bosses ain't got enough edge...
So you'd side with me on principle?!
Now I'll finish my fucking sentence.
Excuse me.
I don't like the Pinkertons. Being the Hearst combine and their fucking ilk got their eyes on taking over here, your staying suits my purpose.
What happened to Tolliver illustrated till the race is fucking finished, never mark the fucking wager paid. Wakes up this mornig in bed with the fucking Hearst combine, knowing he's got us by the balls. Whatever sick fucking business that geologist has transacted, you can bet he had his wrists in it up...
Tolliver.
Tolliver, yeah.. before, after, and in the fucking middle too, thinking he's got the fucking edge, which is the right fucking move. Underwriting whatever sick business that geologist was involved in guarantees his fucking position, but what fucking happens, Dan?
Fucks himself up the ass.. Tolliver.
No mean feat! Yet how often we bring it off.
These quotes come from Wikiquote's Deadwood pages and are available under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike License.