A no. 1: Country's gone to hell.
A no. 1: Steers got horns, kid. You don't.
Hobo: Guess who, Shack? It's the big bad 'bo, Shack. And he's gonna bite your big bad ass.
Hobo: Don't worry, Shack. We'll keep a place for you in the jungle. Six feet down.
Shack: There's only one 'bo that's got the stuff to try me, and you ain't even on the list.
A no. 1: You got a chance to be a good bum. You can be a meat eater, kid. I mean people, not their garbage.
A no. 1: You ain't stopping at this hotel, kid. My hotel! The stars at night, I put 'em there. And I know the presidents, all of them. And I go where I damn well please. Even the chairman of the New York Central can't do it better. My road, kid, and I don't give lessons and I don't take partners. Your ass don't ride this train.
Preacher: I will immerse you, brother, then have you go to the Presbyterians.
A no. 1: Oh, save me from the Presbyterians.
