On October 28th, 1887, I became the mother of a girl baby, the very image of its father, at least that is what he said, but who has the temper of its mother.

While in El Paso, I met Mr. Clinton Burk, a native of Texas, who I married in August 1885.

I'd punch that cocksucker in the balls before I'd cup him for comfort.

It was considered the most dangerous route in the Hills, but as my reputation as a rider and quick shot was well known, I was molested very little, for the toll gatherers looked on me as being a good fellow, and they knew that I never missed my mark.

I'm drunk. Correct. What the f*** is it to you?

The bigger a man's gun the smaller his doodlewick.

I figure if a girl wants to be a legend, she should go ahead and be one.