It was cliche, he knew, but he meant it classic.

That was the first time I realized the extent of Johnny’s hero-worship for Dally Winston. Of all of us, Dally was the one I liked least. He didn’t have Soda’s understanding or dash, or Two-Bit’s humor, or even Darry’s superman qualities. But I realized that these three appealed to me because they were like the heroes in the novels I read. Dally was real. I liked my books and clouds and sunsets. Dally was so real he scared me.

I’m what you might call a Pepsi addict.

Darry took a step toward me, but I backed away. “Don’t touch me,” I said. My heart was pounding in slow thumps, throbbing at the side of my head, and I wondered if everyone else could hear it. Maybe that’s why they’re all looking at me, I thought, they can hear my heart beating...

That’s why we’re separated,” I said. “It’s not money, it’s feeling – you don’t feel anything and we feel too violently.

Oh, glory,” I said with a groan, “this is all I need to top off a perfect night” I took one last drag on my weed and ground the stub under my heel.

It ain’t fair that we have all the rough breaks!

Don’t you know a rumble ain’t a rumble unless I’m in it?

Stay gold Pony Boy.

There isn’t any real good reason for fighting except self-defense.