Pratt: Sir, there’s an old sayin’. “White water in the morning.”
Pratt: That’s it.
Edwards: Mr. President, we have to give bears the right to vote… or bears will rise up and then bears will be in congress and we will be the ones performing in the circus, wearing little hats.
Bartholomew : When I am dead and have passed onto the next world, I want you to lower me from these gallows and… kiss my hairy buttocks!
Lady: I hope Satan himself burns the flesh from your miserable bones.
Hunt: Good God, Lady.