I Lose People...

Fear the Walking Dead 4×15

Wendell: Can I do the honors when he become a skin-muncher?

Jim: You ever see one of these meat puppets trying to walk around with a bunch of broken bones? Not how I plan on spending however long it takes some a-hole to push a sharp, pointy object through my skull.

Jim: I can't go down there, kill any of those goddamn things. Pissing on 'em's the only F-U I got here.

Morgan: You can't do anything about the fact you're gonna die. But you can decide exactly how you go.

Sarah: You are a class-A asshole... an unpleasant jagoff who fills every room he steps into with a philosophical fart. But your beer... man. It's poetry in a bottle.

Jim: You being up on this roof... I think you got yourself an easy way out. Take it from a class-A asshole... Death is a certainty. Getting out from under the shit you've done isn't.

Victor: This is one hell of a predicament.

Jim: 68% pils malt, 15% wheat malt... Weyermann Wheat Malt... 7% flaked oats, 10% Vienna, 40 grams Slovenian pellets, 70 grams Czech Saaz whole hops. You need Belgian and French Saison yeast. You're gonna want to cook the mash at 151 to 152 Fahrenheit. Pitch the yeast at 68. Hold for 10 days, no less... And, Sarah.
Sarah: Yeah?
Jim: Hold the mike up close to your ear. This is the most important part, so no one else can know...
Sarah: That it, Jimbo?
Jim: Well, there's love in there, too, if you can believe it, but, yep, that's it.

Sarah: He died so we could make his beer. I'm not calling it whatever chicken shit name some marketing company told him to give it. We need to give it a name that means something. .... Jimbo's Beerbos.
Morgan: Jimbo's Beerbos... Man, he would hate that.
Sarah: Yeah. I know. Jimbo's Beerbos.

Martha: You're strong now.

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