“Hey, Mr. Cunningham. How's your entailment gettin' along?”

“Hey! All you peoples draggin along here. Stop and come stick your ass on a Night of Joy stool," he started again. "Night of Joy got genuine color peoples workin below the minimal wage. Whoa! Guarantee plantation atmosphere, got cotton growin right on the stage right in front your eyeball, got a civil right worker gettin his ass beat up between show. Hey!”

“It is fundamentals that matter --- not the trappings. (Alice Cunningham)”

“Hey, Mr. Rager. Mr. Rager, tell me where you're going, tell us where you're headed.”

“A mob's always made up of people, no matter what. Mr. Cunningham was part of a mob last night, but he was still a man. Every mob in every little Southern town is always made up of people you know--doesn't say much for them, does it?”

“Maybe your pregnant. Oops, hold on, you're not pregnant, on account of you're not gettin any.”