- Wishbone: Blah! There's a man who'd drank enough whiskey to fill the Rio Grande, and stole enough cattle to fill all of Texas. And when it comes to plain, ordinary sinning and general hellraising, Jeb Newton's name belongs right at the top. Now he's gone and got salvation and won't take a little potion for his body for fear of putting a spot on his soul. I tell you, boy, there's nothing worse and more unreasonable than a retired sinner.
- Wishbone: WITCH? Banshees, goblins, and witches belong in fairy stories, or in the ashes of some Salem cookout.
- Wishbone: Use what little good sense you've got. Do you really think the Devil is gonna be that concerned, is he gonna waste that much time, on a cattle drive? And drovers are known as pretty good sinners all by themselves without any help. And I swear, the last time I looked around, I didn't see one little old halo.
- Mushy: How far are you in that book, Mr Newton?
- Jeb Newton: As far as the begats. There's a sight of begats to get through, Mushy, an immortal sight of begats.
- Abbie Bartlett: There was an owl, lived in an oak, whiskey, whaskey, whaddle, the only words he ever spoke. A hunter chanced to pass that way. Whiskey, whaskey, whaddle. And said I'll shoot you, you stupid bird. Fiddle, faddle, feedle.