'Here's a strange fact: murder a man, and you feel responsible for his life - possessive, even. You know more about him than his father and mother; they knew his foetus, but you know his corpse. Only you can complete the story of his life; only you know why his body has to be pushed into the fire beofre its time, and why his toes curl up and fight for another hour on earth.' -pp.46-47
Reminiscent for me of Clint Eastwood's excellent portrayal of the reality of violence in
Unforgiven:
MUNNY
Well, that fella today, you shot
him alright.
THE KID
(forced bravado)
H-hell yeah. I killed the hell
out of him... three shots... he
was takin' a sh-sh-shit an'...
an'...
The Kid is shaking, becoming hysterical, he can't go on, and
Munny hands the bottle back.
MUNNY
Take a drink, Kid.
THE KID
(breaking down, crying)
Oh Ch-ch-christ... it don't... it
don't seem... real... How he's...
DEAD... how he ain't gonna breathe
no more... n-n-never. Or the
other one neither... On account
of... of just... pullin' a
trigger.
Munny walks back to the edge of the rise and watches the
rider and it is a lovely sunset happening and he is talking
to no one in particular.
MUNNY
It's a hell of a thing, ain't it,
killin' a man. You take
everythin' he's got... an'
everythin' he's ever gonna have...
THE KID
(trying to pull him-
self together)
Well, I gu-guess they had it...
comin'.
MUNNY
We all got it comin', Kid.
