Nevada Smith1966

Jonas Cord:
[Cord shoots a bottle out of the air] Now you get so you can do that with either hand, when you're half-drunk, or half-awake, or inside of a dark room, off the back of a running horse, you might stand a chance. A small chance.

Nevada Smith:
Would you teach me?

Jonas Cord:
I sell guns, I don't teach killing.

Nevada Smith:
Then I'll learn myself.

Jonas Cord:
You won't live that long.

Nevada Smith:
Well thank you for the food and advice, Mr. Cord. I guess I'll be on my way.

Jonas Cord:
Where to? How? What with? Even if I did teach you something, that's only half of it. When you're looking for them three men, you gotta live, don't you? You gotta eat. You need clothes, food, horses, saddles, guns, ammunition, money. How you gonna get that? Tracking beaver on Sundays? I'll tell you how you'll get it. You'll wind up stealing, and killing, and turn yourself into the same kind of animal you're trying to track down. Can't you see that?

Nevada Smith:
I don't see nothing, except my father laying on a blood-covered floor, all burnt and cut, with the top of his head blown to pieces! And my mother, split up the middle, and every square inch of her skin ripped off.