“All the way to hell. In a fancy paper hat.”
“The condemned social order has not been built up on paper and ink, and I don't fancy that a combination of paper and ink will ever put an end to it.”
“Here lies the body of Colonel Cornell’s. The rest of the fellow, I fancy, in hell is.”
“What the hell is that?" I laughed."It's my fox hat.""Your fox hat?""Yeah, Pudge. My fox hat.""Why are you wearing your fox hat?" I asked."Because no one can catch the motherfucking fox.”
“But this was fancy; she was succumbing to fancy in a way she hadn't done before.”
“That’s a deer shooting hat.''Like hell it is.' I took it off and looked at it. I sort of closed one eye, like I was taking aim at it. 'This is a people shooting hat,' I said. 'I shoot people in this hat.”