Words around you’ve had a visitor.
What does he pay you for murdering me?
But you know the pity is, when I’m paid, I always follow my job through.
. . . but you don’t look like the one who collected.
You can still save yourself. Let me go and I’ll pardon you.
Who the hell is that? One bastard goes in and another comes out.
Tuco Benedicto Pacifico Juan Maria Remerez . . . known as ‘the rat’.
There are two kinds of people in the world my friend: Those with the rope around their neck and the people who have the job of doing the cutting.
You may run the risk my friend but I do the cutting. We cut down my percentage . . . it’s liable to interfere with my aim.
But if you miss you had better miss very well. Whoever double crosses me and leaves me alive understands nothing about Tuco . . . nothing.
Adios, half soldier!
People with ropes around their necks don’t always hang.
Even a filthy beggar like that has got a protecting angel.
. . . nobody misses when I’m at the end of the rope.
. . . when that rope starts to pull tight you can feel the devil bite your ass.
The way I figure, there’s really not too much future with a sawed off runt like you.
. . . our partnership is untied . . . no, you remain tied.
I can keep the money and you can keep the rope.
If you save your breath I feel a man like you can manage it.
Such ingratitude after all the times I saved your life.
If you work for a living, why do you kill yourself working?
The world is divided into two parts: Those who are friends and those who are lonely, like poor Tuco.
There are two kinds of spurs, my friend: Those that are coming by the door . . . those that are coming by the window.
Even when Judas hanged himself there was a storm too.
. . . where I’m going amigo. Over that way, another 100 miles of beautiful sun baked sand . . .
. . . but no one will set foot in this hell, except you and me.
. . . and so blondie, it’s good bye.
$200,000 in gold! Yours. Just get me water.
If you do that you’ll always be poor just like the greasy rat that you are. If I were you, I’d keep me alive.
If I get my hands on the $200,000, I’ll always honor you memory . . .
I’ll sleep better knowing my good friend is by my side to protect me.
Tuco . . . water. Where’s water? . . . but if I ever get that name from you I’ll show you water . . .
. . . to begin after nine years.
Go on . . . preach me your sermon Pablo.
Where we come from, if one did not want to die from poverty one became a priest or a bandit. You chose your way. I chose mine. Mine was harder!
You became a priest because you were too much of a coward to do what I do.
. . . that’s so . . . even a tramp like me, no matter what happens, I know there’s a brother somewhere who will never refuse me a bowl of soup.
God’s not on our side ‘cause he hates idiots also.
I like big fat men like you. When they fall they make more noise and sometimes they never get up.
One name is as good as another. Not wise to use your own name. Like you! I’ll bet you they don’t call you ‘angel eyes’ . . . Sergeant ‘angel eyes!
. . . more feeling.
How’s your digestion now?
The war’s over for you.
It’s not that you’re any tougher than Tuco but you’re smart enough to know that talking won’t save you.
If your friends stay out in the damp they are liable to catch a cold aren’t they? . . . or a bullet.
Six . . . perfect number.
You don’t want to break our friendship, huh? Well, I’ll break it.
Whenever I should of had a gun in my right hand . . . I thought of you.
When you have to shoot, shoot, don’t talk.
Every gun makes its own tune.
Put your drawers on and take your gun off.
What . . . are you going to die alone?
See you soon idiots.
Get the hell out. Sure as hell might be you today so go write your will.
. . . this is the most potent weapon in war . . the fighting spirit is in this bottle.
Whoever has the most liquor to get the soldiers drunk and send them to be slaughtered is the winner.
Alright friends. Come along and enjoy the spectacle.
Hey blondie, looks like the captain is looking for a bullet in his guts.
I’ve never seen so many men wasted so badly.
Take a slug of this captain . . . keep your ears open.
Yeah, if I get killed you’d never get your hands on that beautiful money. Yeah, Tuco . . . sure would be a pity.
You see, in this world there’s two kinds of people, my friend: Those with loaded guns and those who dig.
Unk . . . k . . . k . . . un . . . there’s no name on it!
Hey bondie . . . you know what you are! Just a dirty son of a . . .