Billions 3×7
Chuck: As to the how, that involved distraction of the principal, subterfuge, stealth. The trifecta of chicanery.
Dr. Gilbert: It's no different than emergency room triage after a mass casualty event. You save who you can and force the fate of the rest out of your mind.
Chuck: I hoped you'd see it that way.
Chuck: So should we talk about the part we've been avoiding in front of her?
Axelrod: You mean who we're dumping this on?
Chuck: When there's a body, as the corpus of this juice company most certainly is, there has to be a gunman in the depository window. Otherwise, they keep looking for the killer.
Axelrod: That's dirty work. You have the stomach?
Chuck: Of a billygoat. When necessary.
Axelrod: For her.
Chuck: For her.
Wendy: So who's going to be our patsy?
Chuck: Dr. Gilbert, my name is Chuck Rhoades. I am the United States Attorney for the Southern District of New York...
Chuck: Think.
Dr. Gilbert: Why's it always a cup of coffee? Car salesman pretends to get coffee. Cops on TV... You.
DeGiulio: "Conspiracy"? That's a four syllable word which means you'd better be able to prove it.
Chuck: Have you given much thought to the nature of guilt... Guilt is tricky, isn't it?... guilt is also a state of mind. Some of our greatest works of literature probe this very issue. What is guilt? Who should be punished, for what? What is the cost... the grinding, wearing, price... of carrying internal culpability even while escaping external blame... And often as not, right at the very center of the question, stands a great man who has transgressed.
Chuck: There are too few old-line professionals in the field these days who recognize nuanced shifts in loyalty. When I meet one, it is an honor to imbibe with them.
Bach: Just a minute! This isn't the Politburo, you can't just slander your neighbors to get ahead in the bread line...
DeGiulio: Whoa! I invited you to my home for a nice dinner, you people are trying to turn it into the Animal House toga party.
DeGiulio: There are limits to what I will tolerate in all areas of my life. For instance, I'm fine with slightly undercooked pasta. But overcook it, and we are no longer eating together.
Taylor: This is like a country song where the guy drowns his sorrows in whiskey... Only you're using powdered chocolate.
Wendy: He likes me.
Axelrod: We all like you.
Wendy: No. He likes me.
How do you know it's okay?
Wendy: You could be asking about one of six things. Specify.
Taylor: I'm asking about your authority. How you give yourself permission?
Wendy: Are you asking about me or you?
Taylor: We all do it. With our assumptions and our own biases and egos competing with our desire to do good.
Taylor: The doctor's oath. Do no harm. Three words. And yet. Almost impossible to put into practice.
Wendy: Well, there can only be one truth. Right?
Mafee: Absolutely.
Jeffcoat: No need for niceties. Now let's run through it, see how the hell we got here, who walks and who doesn't...
Jeffcoat: All right. Any way we can take some scalps?... The correct answer to that query better be a resounding 'sir, yes, fucking sir.'
Chuck: Be good to have you back, Bryan.
Bryan: And great to be back, Chuck.
Chuck: You know, at certain times, I find myself coming back to Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. ... As almost everyone else I know did, I watched it over and over. ... There they were at the end, in Bolivia, wounded, pinned down, but sure they could shoot their way out of a bad situation as they always had... The only problem was, they had incomplete information. They were unaware that the whole of the Bolivian army had massed outside. But it was that incomplete information that allowed them to run out, guns blazing... into what? Their noble deaths...
Dake: I knew it along the way. But that's the thing: once you're inside the cannon... there's only one way out.
Wendy: And I want you to know... that this is strictly platonic...
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