Bill: He was the only man I ever killed worth remembering.
(3 votes)
2
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-fucking-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.
(2 votes)
3
Bill: How old are you, Amsterdam? Amsterdam Vallon: I'm not sure, sir. I never did quite figure it. Bill: I'm forty-seven. Forty-seven years old. You know how I stayed alive this long? Fear. Fearsome acts. A man steals from me, I cut off his hand. If he lies to me, I cut out his tongue. If he stands up against me, I cut off his head, stick it on a pike and lift it up for all to see. A spectacle of fearsome acts. That's what maintains the order of things. Fear.
(2 votes)
4
Bill: My father gave his life, making this country what it is. Murdered by the British with all of his men on the twenty fifth of July, Anno Domini, 1814. Do you think I'm going to help you befoul his legacy, by giving this country over to them, what's had no hand in the fighting for it? Why, because they come off a boat crawling with lice and begging you for soup.
(2 votes)
5
Bill: You see this knife? I'm gonna teach you to speak English with this fucking knife!
(2 votes)
6
Bill: I'm going to paint paradise square with his blood. Two coats.
(1 vote)
7
[Amsterdam goes to wipe blood off razor] Priest Vallon: No son, never. The blood stays on the blade. One day you'll understand.
(1 vote)
8
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.
(1 vote)
9
Bill: Burn him, see if his ashes turn green.
(1 vote)
10
Bill: I don't give a tupenny fuck about your moral conundrum, you meat-headed shit-sack.
(1 vote)
11
Boss Tweed: Look, a boatful of Americans. Bill: What Americans? A bunch of filthy beasts. What do they do for America? Boss Tweed: They vote. Bill: They vote for who the Archbishop tells them to vote for. And the archbishop gets his orders from their king with his pointy hat, sitting in Rome.
(1 vote)
12
Bill: A *real* native is someone who is willing to die fighting for his country. There's nothing more to it.
(1 vote)
13
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 offence 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.
(1 vote)
14
Bill: Civilization is crumbling
(1 vote)
15
Bill: WOOPSY DAISY.
(1 vote)
16
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: If only I had the guns Mr Tweed I'd shoot each and every one of them before they set foot on American soil.
(1 vote)
17
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.
(1 vote)
18
Walter 'Monk' McGinn: I've got forty-four notches on my club. Do you know what they're for? They're to remind me what I owe God when I die. My father was killed in battle too, in Ireland, in the streets, fighting those who would take as their privilege what could only be got and held by the decimation of a race. That war is a thousand years old and more. We never expected it to follow us here. It didn't. It was waiting for us when we landed. Your father tried to carve out a corner of this land for his tribe. That was him, that was his 'Dead Rabbits'. I often wondered, if he had lived a bit longer: would he have wanted a bit more?
(1 vote)
19
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.
(1 vote)
20
Amsterdam Vallon: Lord, place the steel of the Holy Spirit in my spine and the love of the Virgin Mary in my heart.
21
Boss Tweed: The appearance of law must be upheld, especially when it's being broken.
22
Happy Jack: I come for my due and proper.
23
[after someone speaks to him in Irish Gaelic] Boss Tweed: They don't speak English in New York any more?
24
Bill: Thank God. I die a true American.
25
Bill: Here's the minority vote.
26
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]
27
Amsterdam Vallon: If you get all of us together, we ain't got a gang, we've got an army.
28
McGloin: What's a nigger doing in the church?
29
Bill: Hey, have you met Amsterdam? He almost fish-hooked McGloin.
30
Boss Tweed: We're burying a lot of votes tonight.
31
Bill: Ears and noses will be the trophies of the day. But no hand shall touch him.
32
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.
33
Bill: This is a night for Americans.
34
Bill: Anything in your pockets? Jenny: I ain't started working yet.
35
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.
36
Bill: Is this the Pope's new army?
37
Walter 'Monk' McGinn: Well that was bloody Shakespearian. Do you know who Shakespeare is? He wrote the King James bible.
38
Amsterdam Vallon: I give you my word, this all will be finished tomorrow. Jenny: No, it won't.
39
Happy Jack: I'm paid to uphold the law. Bill: What the hell are you talking about?
40
Boss Tweed: Remember the first rule of politics. The ballots don't make the results, the counters make the results. The counters. Keep counting.
41
Amsterdam Vallon: Is there anyone in the five points you *haven't* fucked? Jenny: Yes! *You!*
42
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.
43
Priest Vallon: Prepare to meet the true lord.
44
Bill: Don't mind him. He used to be an Irishman.
45
Bill: It's Election Day.
46
[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?
47
Irish Singer: [singing] Well, meself and a hundred more, to America sailed o'er, with our fortunes to be made, so we were thinkin' / When we got to Yankee land, they shoved a gun into our hands / Saying "Paddy, you must go and fight for Lincoln."/ There is nothing here but war, where the murderin' cannons roar, and I wish I was back home in dear old Dublin.
48
[swearing in Irish immigrants as citizens at the harbor] Army Recruiter: That document makes you a citizen, and this one makes you a private in the Union army. Now get out there and serve your country.
49
[as an anti-draft riot takes place] Boss Tweed: Sweet Jesus, war does terrible things to people.
50
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.
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