Wash: You brute.
Kaylee: Oh, sweetie, don’t feel bad. He makes everybody cry. He’s like a monster.
Mal: I’m not a monster!

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River: He looks better in red.

After stabbing Jayne

Mal: Everybody dies, Tracey. Someone’s carryin’ a bullet for you right now, doesn’t even know it. The trick is, die of old age before it finds you.

Mal: Can’t get paid if you’re dead.
Jayne: Can’t get paid if you crawl away like a bitty little bug neither. I got a share of this job! Ten percent of nothin’ is – let me do the math here – nothin’ into nothin’, carry the…

Mal: Now I did a job. I got nothing but trouble since I did it, not to mention more than a few unkind words as regard to my character, so let me make this abundantly clear. I do the job. And then I get paid.

Sheriff: It’s funny your uncle never went to mentioning the Bowden’s problem. Or that Joey Bloggs ate his own gun, about eight months back.
Mal: Did he?
Sheriff: Yep. Blew the back of his head right off.
Mal: So… would his job be open?