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A warrior-assassin is forced to hide in a small town in the American Badlands after refusing a mission.
Colonel: I'll see you in hell, little girl. Wear something nasty.
Ronald: You've done good on this garden - for a laundry man. Yang: You do good shooting - for a drunken man.
Colonel: He's your ah, marito? My apologies. I am not the kind of man that sleeps with a married woman. No. [shoots them both dead] Colonel: Oh, but their daughters. Oh, that's a completely different matter.
Ronald: If you truly love something or somebody, laundry man, you get as far away from 'em as possible. Cause we're sand, they're flowers.
Lynne: That sure is a pretty scar I gave *you*.
[first lines] Ronald: Okay, you settled down? You got your ears open? [clears throat] Ronald: This is the story of the sad flute, a laughing baby, a weeping sword. A long long time ago, in a land far far away, there lived a warrior. A warrior with empty eyes.
Lynne: Do we win? Yang: We survived. Some of us.
Saddest Flute: You came to me to be strong, I have made you the strongest.
Lynne: [throwing knives blindfolded] You dead? Yang: Not yet.
Lynne: You are going to take me for a spin, or what?
Lynne: By saving me we've ruined every new thing you've found here. Yang: This new world without you, not so new.
Saddest Flute: Is this the new life you have found? Funny, look much like the old one.
[last lines] Assassin: How much? Yang: [frozen fish to the eye] Free.
Lynne: I've been waiting my whole life for a place where it's right to be wrong.
Ronald: [narrating] The warrior learned there's a heck of a lot more pleasure making things grow, than there is in cutting them down.
Yang: We are called sad flutes because when you cut the throat, the last sound is like a sad flute. Lynne: Dang! Skinny, you sure know how to throw a dang cat in a party room, don't cha.