- Sergeant O'Neil: Do you like it out here, Ned? Living amongst the dirt and disappointment?
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- [first lines]
- Red Kelly: [narrating a written letter] My dear child, I know what it is to be raised on lies and silences. That is why I write to you now. So you do not grow to confuse fiction for fact, and view your father in an unsavory light, as I did mine.
- Red Kelly: You see, your grandfather were a Son of Ireland, a Son of Sieve. Ripped from his home by his English oppressors, and transported to the prisons of Van Dieman's Land, Australia. I do not know what was done to him there, as he never spoke of it, for he were a man who chose to keep secrets from his kin. But I've come to learn secrets shackle one tighter than any chain, and lies fester long after their invention.
- Red Kelly: So as you read this history, my history, know that it is for you, and will contain no single lie. May I burn in hell if I speak false.
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- Ned Kelly: [narrating] I were too guilty to admit that life without dad had become in many ways more pleasant. But my mother were not long without suitors. Worthless men who closed around her like yellow dingoes on a chained-up bitch. But Ma sought one to protect us. Ma sought one to make me a man.
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- Sgt O'Neil: Reminds me of a dog that I once had. It was a mangy old thing. And I am a cruel bastard, so I would whip it every which way. I'd beat on him just for looking at me. So, I figure if you hate on something for long enough, well, he just comes to love you anyway, just for those few moments when you don't.
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- Ned Kelly: My wish for you, my dearest child, is that all the coarse words and cruelty I have related in these pages seem queer and foreign to you, like some strange tale from an ancient world. But if they do not, and you, like I, have suffered from injustice at the hand of oppressors, remember that you are a Kelly, and never forget that you were mine and that you were loved. Whatever they write about me, whatever names I am given or whatever falsehoods are attributed to me, know that much is true. So go out into the world and make of it what you wish. Write your own history. For you are my future now.
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- Ned Kelly: I wrote first for the newspapers, though my truth were never printed, for a myth is more profitable than a man.
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- Harry Power: Friends will leave you, women will grow tired of you, dogs will up and die. Bullock Creek has never let me down. Up here, fuckin' Ali Baba.
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