Polly Gray

You have your mother's common sense, but your father's devilment. I see them fighting. Let your mother win.

He laughed, a lot. He wanted to work with horses.

Shit, maybe it's in us? Cause were Shelbys. It's in our gypsy blood. We live somewhere between life and death. Waiting to move on, and in the end, we accept it. We shake hands with devils, and we walk past them.

Arthur asked, whose side I was on. There will be a war, and one of you will die. But which one, I cannot tell.

Kill, and kill.

Soon, you will have a stage to stand on. Millions of people will listen to you.

Not anymore. My resignation.