— Happy or sad?
— Sad.
— Okay, but I warn you; I'll break your heart.
— Already broken.
— What was your father's profession?
— Well, he, erm... He told fortunes and stole horses. Often he would tell a man that his horse would be stolen and they would marvel at his powers when it was.
Please don't listen to my sister's opinions of me. They are always... hopeful. Therefore they are always wrong.
— You think I am a whore?
— Everyone's a whore, Grace. We just sell different parts of ourselves.
— I love you.
— And there it goes, Grace. Away it goes...
— Thomas Shelby.
— My hand was blood.
— Oh, mine too.
You have your mother’s common sense but your father’s devilment. I see them fighting. Let your mother win.
May you be in heaven a full half hour before the devil knows you’re dead.
— What are you doing, Tommy?
— Shovelling shit, Curly. Just like you.
— Why're you doing that, Tommy?
— To remind myself what I'd be if I wasn't who I am.
In pubs sometimes people say things and sometimes it’s the whisky talking. It’s hard to tell which is which.