Better be a callous brute or better dead! I shall go mad thinking! Man, what is left to you?
A hiding-place like a wolf's--lonely silent days, lonely nights with phantoms! Or the trail and the road with their bloody tracks, and then the hard ride, the sleepless, hungry ride to some hole in rocks or brakes.

What hellish thing drives me?
Why can't I end it all?
What is left?
Only that damned unquenchable spirit of the gun-fighter to live--to hang on to miserable life--to have no fear of death, yet to cling like a leach--to die as gun-fighters seldom die, with boots off! Bain, you were first, and you're long avenged.

I'd change with you.

And Sellers, you were last, and you're avenged.

And you others--you're avenged.