Epic story of a mysterious stranger with a harmonica who joins forces with a notorious desperado to protect a beautiful widow from a ruthless assassin working for the railroad.

Harmonica: [facing three men] And Frank?
Snaky: Frank sent us.
Harmonica: Did you bring a horse for me?
Snaky: Well... looks like we're...
[snickers]
Snaky: ...looks like we're shy one horse.
Harmonica: [shaking head] You brought two too many.
Frank: How can you trust a man that wears both a belt and suspenders? Man can't even trust his own pants.
Morton: Not bad. Congratulations. Tell me, was it necessary that you kill all of them? I only told you to scare them.
Frank: People scare better when they're dying.
Cheyenne: By the way, you know anything about a man going around playing the harmonica? He's somebody you'd remember. Instead of talking, he plays. And when he better play, he talks.
Cheyenne: You know, Jill, you remind me of my mother. She was the biggest whore in Alameda and the finest woman that ever lived. Whoever my father was - for an hour or for a month - he must have been a happy man.
Cheyenne: Listen, Harmonica, a town built around a railroad - mm mm mm mmm - you could make a fortune, huh? Hundreds of thousands of dollars. Hey, more than that. Thousands of thousands.
Harmonica: They call them "millions."
Cheyenne: "Millions." Hm.
Harmonica: I saw three of these dusters a short time ago. They were waiting for a train. Inside the dusters, there were three men.
Cheyenne: So?
Harmonica: Inside the men, there were three bullets.
Cheyenne: That's a crazy story, Harmonica, for two reasons: One, nobody around these parts got the guts to wear those dusters except Cheyenne's men. Two, Cheyenne's men don't get killed. That surprise you?
Harmonica: Yeah. Well, you know music, and you can count - all the way up to two.
[Cheyenne spins the magazine of his revolver]
Cheyenne: All the way up to six if I have to...
Cheyenne: [gesturing to Harmonica's wound] ... and maybe faster than you.
Frank: Morton once told me I could never be like him. Now I understand why. Wouldn't have bothered him, knowing you were around somewhere alive.
Harmonica: So, you found out you're not a businessman after all.
Frank: Just a man.
Harmonica: An ancient race. Other Mortons'll be along, and they'll kill it off.
Frank: The future don't matter to us. Nothing matters now - not the land, not the money, not the woman. I came here to see you, 'cause I know that now you'll tell me what you're after.
Harmonica: Only at the point of dyin'.
Jill: If you want to, you can lay me over the table and amuse yourself, and even call in your men. Well, no woman ever died from that. When you're finished, all I'll need will be a tub of boiling water and I'll be exactly what I was before - with just another filthy memory!
Cheyenne: [sighs] You make good coffee, at least?
Cheyenne: [of Harmonica] He not only plays, he can shoot, too.
Harmonica: The reward for this man is 5000 dollars, is that right?
Cheyenne: Judas was content for 4970 dollars less.
Harmonica: There were no dollars in them days.
Cheyenne: But sons of bitches... yeah.
[Frank sits at Morton's desk]
Morton: How does it feel sitting behind that desk, Frank?
Frank: It's almost like holding a gun... only much more powerful.
Frank: What do you want? Who are ya?
Harmonica: Dave Jenkins.
Frank: Dave Jenkins is dead a long time ago.
Harmonica: Calder Benson.
Frank: What's your name? Benson's dead, too.
Harmonica: You ought to know, Frank, better than anyone. You killed 'em.
Cheyenne: [to Jill] You know what? If I was you, I'd go down there and give those boys a drink. Can't imagine how happy it makes a man to see a woman like you, just to look at her. And if one of them should, uh, pat your behind, just make believe it's nothing. They earned it.
Cheyenne: You don't understand, Jill. People like that have something inside... something to do with death.
[last lines]
Cheyenne: Hey, Harmonica, when they do you in, pray it's somebody who knows *where* to shoot. Go away. Go away. Go away, I don't want you to see me die.
[Frank and his gang are standing in front of Timmy McBain, after killing the other family members]
Frank's lieutenant: What are we going to do with this one, Frank?
Frank: Now that you've called me by name?
Harmonica: Your friends have a high mortality rate, Frank. First three, then two.
Frank: So, YOU'RE the one who makes appointments.
Harmonica: And you're the one who doesn't keep 'em.
Harmonica: When you hear a strange sound, drop to the ground.
Frank: Who are you?
Harmonica: Jim Cooper, Chuck Youngblood.
Frank: More dead men.
Harmonica: They were all alive until they met you, Frank.
Morton: You'll never succeed in becoming like me.
Frank: Why?
Morton: Because there are many things you'll never understand.
[Frank draws on Morton as he pulls out money from a drawer]
Morton: This is one of 'em. You see, Frank, there are many kinds of weapons, and the only one that can stop that is this.
[Morton's train stops as Frank's men ride up to it]
Morton: Now, shall we get back to our little problem?
Frank: My weapons might look simple to you, Mr. Morton, but they can still shoot holes big enough for our little problems.
Cheyenne: They wanna hang me, the big black crows. Idiots. What the hell? I'll kill anything, but never a kid. Be like killin' a priest. Catholic priest, that is.
Harmonica: Now I gotta go. Gonna be a beautiful town, Sweetwater.
Jill: [with tears] I hope you'll come back someday.
Harmonica: Someday.
Jill: But... but they were his men.
Harmonica: Yeah.
Jill: And they tried to kill him.
Harmonica: They must've found somebody who pays better.
Jill: And YOU! You saved his life.
Harmonica: I didn't let them kill him, and that's not the same thing.
Harmonica: [to Frank, spotting a gunman above a painted clock] Time sure flies. It's already past twelve.
Jill: [stares at Harmonica from her window] Cheyenne.
Cheyenne: Huh?
Jill: What's he waiting for out there? What's he doing?
Cheyenne: He's whittling on a piece of wood. I got a feeling, when he stops whittling, something's gonna happen.
Frank: Keep your lovin' brother happy.
Cheyenne: You deserve better.
Jill: The last man who told me that... is buried out there.
Jill: Hey, you're sort of a handsome man.
Cheyenne: But I'm not the right man. And neither is he.
Frank: Surprised to see me here?
Harmonica: I knew you'd come.
Cheyenne: [pointing his gun at Morton] Hey, Mr. Choo-choo.
Cheyenne's Lieutenant: Cheyenne. We thought we'd never make it.
Cheyenne: It's all right. You're right on time... to bury my escort.
Frank: You've made a big mistake, Morton. When you're not on that train, you look like a turtle out of its shell. It's funny. Poor cripple talkin' big so nobody'll know how scared ya are.
Jill: I could swear we're going to have that strange sound.
Harmonica: Right now.
Cheyenne: Make believe it's nothing.
Jill: [carrying around Brett's photograph] You wake up one morning and say "World, I know you. From now on there are no more surprises," and then you happen to meet a man like this, who looked like a good man - clear eyes, strong hands - and he wants to marry you, which doesn't happen often, and he says he's rich, too, which doesn't hurt.
Harmonica: You know, Wobbles... I'm kind of mad at you.
Cheyenne: Yeah, go on. Play, Harmonica. Play, so you can't bullshit.
Cheyenne: What the hell is this?
Harmonica: [off screen] Can't you see?
[emerges from behind a pile of wood]
Harmonica: It's a station. And all around it a town. Brett McBain's town.
Cheyenne: [starts to laugh] Was HE crazy, heh!
Harmonica: Yeah in a very special way. An Irishman.
[starts measuring out a square and hammers wood spikes into the ground]
Harmonica: He knew sooner or later that railroad coming through Flagstone would continue on west, so he looked over all this county out here until he found this hunk of desert. Nobody wanted it, but he bought it.
[continues with work]
Harmonica: Then he tightened his belt, and for years he waited.
Cheyenne: Waited for what?
Harmonica: For the railroad to reach this point.
Cheyenne: Ah, but how in the hell could he be sure the railroad would pass through his property?
Harmonica: Them steam engines can't roll without water, and the only water for fifty miles west of Flagstone is right here, under this land.
Cheyenne: Ah-ha! He was no fool, our dead friend, huh?
[chuckles]
Cheyenne: He was going to sell this piece of desert for his weight in gold, wasn't he?
Harmonica: [looks at Cheyenne] You don't sell the dream of a lifetime. Brett McBain wanted his station. He got the rights to build it.
Cheyenne: How do you know all this?
Harmonica: I saw a document. It was all in order - seals, signatures, everything. One thing though, in very small print, there is a short clause which says that McBain or his heirs lose all rights if, by the time the railroad reaches this point, the station ain't built yet.
[Frank knocks Morton off of his crutches]
Morton: Is that sufficient to make you feel stronger?
Frank: I could squash you like a wormy apple.
Morton: Sure, but you won't do it... because it's not to... your advantage.
Frank: Hmm. Who knows how far you'd have gone with two good legs, huh?
Frank: [trying to convince Harmonica to sell him the land Harmonica just won] Pick any method you like, just make the deal.
Harmonica: Which deal, Frank? We have more than one, you and me.
Frank: You paid five thousand dollars for something belongs to me.
[puts down a bunch of dollar bills]
Frank: Five thousand...
[pulls out a silver dollar]
Frank: ...plus one.
[puts the dollar on the table]
Frank: You got a right to make a profit, too.
Cheyenne: [drinking coffee] Good. My mother used to make coffee this way - hot, strong, and good.
Morton: [to Wobbles] Hm. You should learn to live as if you didn't exist.
Cheyenne: Hey, what in the hell are you standing around for?
Cheyenne's Lieutenant: Well, gee, what are we supposed to do?
Cheyenne: What are you supposed to do? Build a station! Idiots!
[tosses them pickaxes and other tools]
Cheyenne: I figure it ain't gonna look like much, but it'll be the first thing she sees, when she gets back.
Harmonica: [looks up] If she gets back.
[first lines]
Cattle Corner Station Agent: Hey. Hey-hey-hey-hey, if you want any tickets, you'll have to go around, eh, to, eh, the front of, eh, eh... oooh, well, I s'pose it'll be all right. The hell am *I* doin' around here if they walk in and can do as they damn please?
Frank's lieutenant: [seeing Morton deal out 500 dollars each to four of Frank's men as if they were playing cards] How do you, uh... how do you play this game, Mr. Morton?
Morton: It's very simple. As long as you use your head, you never lose.

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