— I wouldn't know what to do.
— You've spent two-thirds of your life in pubs. Just pour it instead of drinking it.
— But I can still drink it, right?
— Your pub — you do what you want.
— They gave us the worst job, Tommy.
— Yeah... and we're fucking volunteered. Sometimes, it lasts all night. I lie here and I listen to the shovels and the picks against that wall there. And I pray the sun will come up at the curtains before they break through. "No, I don't pray — I hope. And sometimes, it happens. The sun beats them. But mostly... the shovels beat the sun."
— You loaded Ada with your bastard because she's a Shelby. You thought it'd mean you'd be somebody. I won't let you fuck up my sister's life for your cause.
— My God. You actually believe that. I love her, Tommy. I've loved her since she was nine and I was twelve. And she loves me the same. You even know the word?
— You think I am a whore?
— Everyone's a whore, Grace. We just sell different parts of ourselves.