“One man with a gun can reason better than 50 lawyers.”
“It’s Sicilian. Three dots… three days to live.”
“Senator, my father used to tell me many things. And he said a cake that’s been bought is not really a cake.”
“How’s your drink, Tom?”
“They say you got a wide mouth and a narrow throat. They say that’s trouble.”
“Kennedy. That useless son of a bitch.”
“We’re going to talk some business, and you’re going to understand me… much sooner than you expect.”
“You all right?”
“I apologize, councilman. I’d offer you a seat but I know you’re in a hurry.”
“You think you can do that? You think you can knock Gatto Rienzi out of his own territory? Do me a favor and try it now. I want to see what happens.”
“The Enna brothers. They’re moving trucks in from L.A.”
“Michael, it wasn’t yours! It wasn’t yours!” Silence. “It wasn’t yours.”
“Hey, Mike. Hey, Mikey! You’re wanted on the telephone.”
“My people been working that candy store 30 years. Walk in now, what do you see? A spagnolo’s got his hand in the till.”
“I don’t care what pinstripe-wearing hoods come crawling out of New York. I got that boy’s contract, he can sing ‘Pop Goes the Weasel.’”
“First you shave. Then you get the bullets.”
“The Tuccis have the Galaxy and the Coronet. Kleinhold has the El Cazador. DeFalco’s running the Royal Grand with Crepuscolo and Alba. And Godfather, excuse me, I’m wondering… where’s my chair? I got to know. Where’s my seat at the table?”
“Singing lessons, acting lessons, dancing lessons.”
Answer: They're all fake except for numbers 4, 8, 13 and 18.
—Follow C.T. May on Twitter: @CTMay3