Thomas Shelby

— Happy or sad?
— Sad.
— Okay, but I warn you; I'll break your heart.
— Already broken.

Whiskey is good proofing water. It tells you who’s real and who isn’t.

— You think I am a whore?
— Everyone's a whore, Grace. We just sell different parts of ourselves.

Lies travel faster than the truth.

Dear Grace, I write without malice. I learned long ago to hate my enemies. But I've never loved one before.

— I love you.
— And there it goes, Grace. Away it goes...

You don't parley when you're on the back foot.

In France I got used to seeing men die. I never got used to seeing horses die.

In pubs sometimes people say things and sometimes it’s the whisky talking. It’s hard to tell which is which.

— The one minute. The soldier's minute. In a battle, that's all you get. One minute of everything at once. And anything before is nothing. Everything after nothing. Nothing in comparison to that one minute.
— Didn't you get enough minutes over there?

She’s in the past. The past is not my concern. The future is no longer my concern, either.

You have to get what you want, your own way.

The only way to guarantee peace is by making the prospect of war seem hopeless.

— How wrong I was about her.
— I was wrong about her, as well. You once said to me, that men like us can never be loved. But she loves me. She told me. She loves me. And all you got was a bullet and a fucking wolf head cane.

— Is that what it's for, the warmth? Warm...
— All this time...
— I know. Our love still remains.