Last modified on 15 July 2013, at 16:58

Preacher

Preacher (1995–2000) was a comic book series created by writer Garth Ennis and artist Steve Dillon, published by the American comic book label Vertigo imprint of DC Comics, with painted covers by Glenn Fabry.

Jesse: One look at their faces, and I could tell the Good Lord was using my prayers to wipe his ass.
  • The Time of the Preacher

Tulip: The way I hear it, there's two good places to look for God: in church, or at the bottom of a bottle.
Jesse: Maybe I'll go find a liquor store, then … 'cause lemme tell you, it sure as hell ain't church.
  • The Time of the Preacher

Jesse: He wasn't so bad, for a beer-waterin' motherfucker.
  • The Time of the Preacher
    • About Leonard, the bartender

Jesse: You used to hate guns, Tulip.
Cassidy: I know someone who doesn't.
Jesse: Mm? Oh yeah.
Tulip: Christ, do we have to talk about him?
Cassidy: Well, he's a pretty big part of it, isn't he?
Jesse: It's his voice that gets me … that crawling grinding whisper … spitting hell and ghosts and cobwebs in your ear …
  • The Time of the Preacher
    • About the Saint of Killers


Jesse: RAGE AND BLOW, YE CATARACTS AND HURRICANOES!
"King Lear." Always wanted to say it.
  • First Contact

Billy Baker aka Spaceman: So tell me somethin'. How come you shitheads never write?
  • The Land of Bad Things
    • Visiting the Vietnam war memorial

Jesse: I don't know if I told you, but I never really wanted to be a preacher …
Tulip: No? What did you want to be, then?
Jesse: Hell, girl. Can't you guess?
  • A Hell of a Vision
  • As the two ride off into the sunset

Jesse: I don't get what I want, me an' these goofs're gonna get to watch a fat boy try to eat his own tits off – an' if that ain't an evening's entertainment, I don't know what is.
  • Iron in the blood
    • To Allfather D'Aronique in Masada

Herr Starr: Oh, well let me see: We had an angel, a whore, an eunuch, several dozen idiots, an unkillable mick, a one-man holocaust in a duster coat, the occasional twenty-course banquet for the mother of all fat fuckers, inbreeding, family feuds, bulimia, a retarded child (always good for a laugh), and the utter destruction of our most sacred shrine and secret retreat in the detonation of a fifty-ton bomb.
  • Gunchicks
    • To Featherstone

Devil: What was that you were saying about the coming century?
Angel of Death: Well, if you think this one was bad – and it's not over yet – wait 'til you see what's coming next. The little mortal bastards come up with all manners of nastiness to use on each other.
Devil: I was at Bull Run, and the Crimea, and I've seen what the British are doing with all those herds of niggers. You're not talking to some kind of beginner here …
Angel of Death: Child's play. What about sixy thousand men mown down in an afternoon? Or a weapon that can vaporize a city? Or a factory set up just to kill? What about two wars that each drag in the whole wide world?
Devil: Bollocks!
Angel of Death: I'm serious. I've seen the plans.
  • Preacher Special: The Saint of Killers, no. 3

The Saint of Killers: Not enough gun.
  • War in the Sun
    • Stated after being hit with a nuclear missile

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