“These boots were made for dancing"(260)”

“Plus my boots were made of awesome.”

“Sure, I have nice shoes. They’re in my closet, collecting a patina of dust. My shoes were made for dancing, and that’s why they’re dusty, because my feet, unfortunately, were not made for dancing. My feet were made for making wine, and that’s why my walk is intoxicating.”

“There's no boot."No boot?"No."That makes me sad."I ate it."You ate the boot?"Yes."Was it good?"No. Were the cigarettes good?"No. I couldn't finish them."I couldn't finish the boot.”

“Not the ones made for walking? God, I love those boots.”

“The next morning-at least, I assumed it was morning, since we were all waking up- I felt like one of those twelve dancing princesses, who danced all night, wore holes in their shoes, and had to sleep it off the next day. Except, oh yeah: a)I'm not a princess; b)sleeping in a subway tunnel and having another brain attack aren't that much like dancing all night; and c) my combat boots were still in good shape. Other than that, it was exactly the same.”