There are many stories about Michael Sullivan. Some say he was a decent man. Others say there was no good in him at all. But I once spent 6 weeks on the road with him, in the winter of 1931. This is our story.

I saw then that my father's only fear was that his son would follow the same road. And that was the last time I ever held a gun. People always thought I grew up on a farm. And I guess, in a way, I did. But I lived a lifetime before that, in those six weeks on the road in the winter of 1931. When people ask me if Michael Sullivan was a good man, or if there was just no good in him at all, I always give the same answer. I just tell them... he was my father.

Natural law. Sons are put on this earth to trouble their fathers.

What men do after work is what made us rich. No need to screw them at work as well.

A man of honor always pays his debts... and keeps his word.

You would like to apologize? Try again.

Let's drink to Danny's honor. Let's wake him to God and hope he gets to Heaven... at least an hour before the devil finds out he's dead.

I curse... the fucking... day... you were born. I curse it!

[to Michael] I'm glad it's you.

This is the life we chose, the life we lead. And there is only one guarantee: none of us will see Heaven.