Frank: How can you trust a man who wears both a belt and suspenders? The man can't even trust his own pants.
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Harmonica: The reward for this man is 5000 dollars, is that right?
Cheyenne: Judas was content for 4970 dollars less.
Harmonica: There were no dollars in them days.
Cheyenne: But sons of bitches... yeah.
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Harmonica: And Frank?
Snaky: Frank sent us.
Harmonica: Did you bring a horse for me?
Snaky: Well... looks like we're...
[snickers]
Snaky: ...looks like we're shy one horse.
Harmonica: You brought two too many.
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Cheyenne: Do you know anything about a guy going around playing the harmonica? He's someone you'd remember. Instead of talking, he plays. And when he better play, he talks.
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Cheyenne: Harmonica, a town built around a railroad.
[laughs]
Cheyenne: You could make a fortune. Hundreds of thousands of dollars. Hey, more than that. Thousands of thousands.
Harmonica: They call them "millions."
Cheyenne: "Millions." Hmm.
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Harmonica: I saw three of these dusters a short time ago, they were waiting for a train. Inside the dusters, there were three men.
Cheyenne: So?
Harmonica: Inside the men, there were three bullets.
Cheyenne: That's a crazy story, Harmonica, for two reasons. One, nobody around these part's got the guts to wear those dusters except Cheyenne's men. Two, Cheyenne's men don't get killed.
Harmonica: Well, you know music, and you can count - all the way up to two.
[Cheyenne spins the magazine of his revolver]
Cheyenne: All the way up to six if I have to...
[gestures to Harmonica's wound]
Cheyenne: And maybe faster than you.
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Cheyenne: You know, Jill, you remind me of my mother. She was the biggest whore in Alameda and the finest woman that ever lived. Whoever my father was, for an hour or for a month - he must have been a happy man.
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