Experience has taught me never to trust a policeman. Just when you think one's all right, he turns legit.

One way or another, we all work for our vice.

Everything is here, from the observed routine of the personnel to the alarm system, the types of locks on the doors, the aging condition of the main safe, and so forth and so forth. Take my word for it, Mr. Emmerich, this is a ripe plum ready to fall...Perhaps you know my reputation. I've engineered some very big things.

They'll be paid off like house painters - they'll be told nothing about the size of the take. Sometimes, men get greedy.

Oh, I suppose a fellow should stick to his own trade, but uh, I know some pretty big men around here that might not be averse to a deal like this - if they're properly approached. Highly respectable men, I might add...It might mean a lot more money for all of us.

They'll listen to reason. This is a very bad jolt for them. And it's possible they'll be willing to buy the jewels back, no questions asked, for as high as twenty-five percent of what they're worth.

I haven't carried a gun since my twenties. You carry a gun, you shoot a policeman. Bad rap, hard to beat. You don't carry a gun, you give up when they hold one on you.

Why don't you quit cryin' and get me some bourbon?

Are you a man, or what? Trying to gyp and double-cross with no guts for it. What's inside of you? What's keeping you alive?