Lund: You didn’t toast? Y’know, I’m thinkin’ you one of them independents.
Mal: And I’m thinkin’ you weren’t burdened with an overabundance of schooling. So why don’t we just ignore each other, til we go away?

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Mal: We’re not gonna die. We can’t die, Bendis. You know why? Because we are so very pretty. We are just too pretty for God to let us die.

Simon: What about us?
Mal: Kaylee comes through, you and your sister get off at Whitefall.
Simon: If she doesn’t come through?
Mal: Well, then you’re gettin’ off a mite sooner.

Mal: Well, what about you, Shepherd? How come you’re flying about with us brigands? I mean, shouldn’t you be off bringing religiosity to the Fuzzie-Wuzzies or some such?
Book: Oh, I got heathens aplenty right here.
Mal: If I’m your mission, Shepherd, best give it up. You’re welcome on my boat. God ain’t.

Mal: It sounds like the finest party I can imagine getting paid to go to.
Inara: I don’t suppose you’d find it up to the standards of your outings. More conversation, and somewhat less… petty theft and getting hit with pool cues.

Shindig

Mal: This is the last time. Last time with cows. Hey, there was an idea regarding beagles? They have smallish droppings?
Zoe: I believe so, sir. Also, your disreputable men are here.
Mal: Better go take their money.