“I think you love anything that means you put your head on a pillow at night, thinking you ain’t the bad guy.”
“You know what I’m wondering is, what do you tell yourself at night, when you lay your head down, allows you to wake up in the morning pretending you ain’t the bad guy.”
Sammy: So if you saw a crime committed against him, you wouldn’t, as a lawman, feel the obligation to intervene?
Winona: Hey, did you, uh—did you sign that paperwork?
“‘Cause it wasn’t God that let you out of that room up in Noble’s or pulled you out of Colt’s car or put this gun in my hand. That was people making choices all down the line, Ellen May.”
RAYLAN: You know, Boyd, I think you just use the Bible to do whatever the hell you like.
BOYD: Well, what do you think I like, Raylan?
RAYLAN: You like to get money and blow shit up. I know about your friend Devil and his record selling dope, and I’m willing to bet that you blew up that church in Lexington not because it was Black, but because it was a dope store. Ten to one says you got paid to do it by some other dope dealer around, didn’t like the idea of that preacher getting a free pass from the police. Win-win for you, wasn’t it, Boyd? Not only did you get to blow something to smithereens, you got money! See, I’m giving you the benefit you aren’t mental. I know you’re not stupid enough to believe that mud people story.
Well, what if I told you I was the man who recruited you in that church? But then I also told you I was the man who got shot, who found God, who betrayed his father. That I was a man who killed men and gotten a whole bunch of men killed. See, Devil, I can’t discard my past any more than I can these tattoos.