Augustus Hill


Harold Perrineau

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Augustus Hill: I never lie. Not ’cause I’m so honest, but because I have a bad memory. And you can’t be a good liar if you got a bad memory.

Hill: That’s probably why you’re such a shit lawyer.
Said: Augustus, please. Insults do us no good at all.
Hill: They sure as hell make me feel better.

Hill: How hard is it to hide a couple of bodies up in Oz, son? Temporarily, at least.

Hill: Life in Oz sucks, and only a fool or a Republican will tell you different.

Hill: ‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The rats, on the other hand, is a whole different story.

Hill: So, what have we learned? What’s the lesson for today? For all the never-ending days and restless nights in Oz? That morality is transient? That virtue cannot exist without violence? That to be honest is to be flawed? That the giving and taking of love both debases and elevates us? That God or Allah or Yahweh has answers to questions we dare not even ask? The story is simple: a man lives in prison and dies. How he dies? That’s easy. The who and the why is the complex part. The human part. The only part worth knowing… Peace.