Mal: I’m gettin’ a little weary of this attitude, Wash.
Wash: Are you? Well, I’m so very sorry, sir. I guess the news that we’re all gonna be purple and bloated and fetal in a few hours has made me little snippy.

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Kaylee: So how many fell madly in love with you and wanted to take you away from all this?
Inara: Just the one. I think I’m slipping.

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?

Mal: Reavers ain’t men – or they forgot how to be.

Jayne: About time you broke in them fancy shoes. Hyah! Get along!
Mal: You know, they walk just as easy if you lead ’em.
Jayne: I like smackin’ ’em.

Safe

Simon: So, finally a decent wound on this ship, and I miss out. I’m sorry.
Mal: Well, you were busy trying to get yourself lit on fire. It happens.