— You'd really lie with someone being paid for it?
— Well, it's not like anyone else is lining up to... you know, examine me.
— If you take sexual advantage of her... you're going to burn in a very special level of hell. A level they reserve for child molesters... and people who talk at the theater.
— What...? I am not... Preacher, you got a smutty mind.
— Perhaps l spoke out of turn.
— Per-maybe-haps, I'm thinking.
— I apologize. I'll make her up a room in the passenger dorm.
— Thank you.
— The special hell.
— So explain to me again why Zoe wasn't in the dress.
— Tactics, woman. Needed her in the back. Besides, those soft, cotton dresses feel nice. There's a whole airflow.
— And you'd know that because...?
— You can't open the book of my life in the middle. Like women, I'm a mystery.
— Best keep it that way. I withdraw the question.
She meant to pay you, she'd have haggled you down some.
The woods are the only place I can see a clear path.
It's my estimation... that every man ever got a statue made of him... was one kind of son of a bitch or another. It ain't about you, Jayne. It's about what they need.
Simon Tam: — Uh, I'm trying to put this as delicately as I can. How do I know you won't kill me in my sleep?
Malcolm Reynolds: — You don't know me, son, so let me explain this to you once. If I ever kill you, you'll be awake. You'll be facing me, and you'll be armed.
Simon Tam: — Are you always this sentimental?
Malcolm Reynolds: — I had a good day.
Simon Tam: — You had the Alliance on you — criminals and savages. Half the people on this ship have been shot or wounded, including yourself... — and you're harboring known fugitives.
Malcolm Reynolds: — Well, we're still flyin'.
Simon Tam: — That's not much.
Malcolm Reynolds: — It's enough.
— When you can't run, you crawl... and when you can't crawl, you... when you can't do that...
— You find someone to carry you.