Thursday, June 4, 2015

Is Dallas Winston Cold and Hard and Couldn't Love Anybody?

page 10   tougher, colder, meaner

13. (pg 20): ―Dally hated to do things the legal way. He liked to show that he didn‘t care whether there was a law or not. He went around trying to break laws.‖

2. (pg 45): ―‘Ponyboy . . . I mean . . . if I see you in the hall at school or someplace and don‘t say hi, well, it‘s not personal or anything, but . . . We couldn‘t let our parents see us with you all. You‘re a nic boy and everything. . . We aren‘t in the same class. Just don‘t forget that some of us watch the sunset too.‘‖ and ―‘I could fall in love with Dallas Winston. I hope I never see him again, or I will.‘‖

41. (pg 59): ―I studied Dally, trying to figure out what there was about his toughlooking hood that a girl like Cherry Valance could love. Towheaded and shiftyeyed, Dally was anything but handsome. Yet in his hard face there was character, pride, and a savage defiance of the world. He could never love Cherry Valance back. It would be a miracle if Dally loved anything. The fight for selfpreservation had hardened him beyond caring.‖

55. (pg 76): ―‘one night I was Dally gettin‘ picked up by the fuzz, and he kept real cool and calm the whole time. They was gettin‘ him for breakin‘ out the windows in the school building, and it was Tw0-Bit who did that. And Dally knew it. But he just took the sentence without battin‘ an eye or even denyin‘ it. That‘s gallant.‘‖

65. (pg 88): ―‘No,‘ snapped Dally, ‗they didn‘t. Blast it Johnny, what do they matter? Shoot, my old man don‘t give a hang whether I‘m in jail or dead in a car wreck or drunk in the gutter. That don‘t bother me none.‘‖

66. (pg 89): ―‘Johnny, I ain‘t mad at you. I just don‘t want you to get hurt. You don‘t know what a few months in jail can do to you. Oh, blast it, Johnny . . . you get hardened in jail. I don‘t want that to happen to you. Like it happened to me.‘‖

90. (pg 124): ―I‘d never liked Dally- but then, for the first time, I felt like he was my buddy. And all because he was glad he hadn‘t killed me.‖

103. (pg 147): ―‘I was crazy, you know that, kid? Crazy for wantin‘ Johnny to stay outa trouble, for not wantin‘ him to get hard. If he‘d been like me he‘d never have been in this mess. If he‘d got smart like me he‘d never have run into that church. That‘s what you get for helpin‘ people. Editorials in the paper and a lot of trouble. . . . You‘d better wise up, Pony . . . you get tough like me and you don‘t get hurt. You look out for yourself and nothin‘ can touch you . . .‖

106. (pg 149): ―Dally swallowed and reached over to push Johnny‘s hair back. ‗Never could keep that hair back . . . that‘s what you get for tryin‘ to help people, you little punk, that‘s what you get . . .‘‖

108. (pg 152): ―‘Dallas is gone,‘ I said. ‗He ran out like the devil was after hm. He‘s gonna blow up. He couldn‘t take it.‘ How can I take it? I wondered. Dally is tougher than I am. Why can I take it when Dally can‘t? And then I knew. Johnny was the only thing that Dally loved. And now Johnny was gone.‖

109. (pg 154): ―Dally raised the gun, and I thought: You blasted fool. They don‘t know you‘re only bluffing. And even as the policemen‘s guns spit fire into the night I knew that was what Dally wanted. He was jerked half around by the impact of the bullets, then slowly crumpled with a look of grim triumph on his face. He was dead before he hit the ground. But I knew that was what he wanted, even as the lot echoed with the cracks of shots, even as I begged silently – Please, not him… not him and Johnny both – I knew he would be dead, because Dally Winston wanted to be dead and he always got what he wanted.‖

110. (pg 154): ―Dally didn‘t die a hero. He died violent and young and desperate, just like we all knew he‘d die someday.‖

131. (pg 178): ―I want you to tell Dally to look at one. I don’t think he’s ever really seen a sunset. And don’t be so bugged over being a greaser. You still have a lot of time to make yourself be what you want. There’s still lots of good in the world. Tell Dally. I don’t think he knows. Your buddy, Johnny.‖

132. (pg 179): ―Tell Dally. It was too late to tell Dally. Would he have listened? Suddenly it wasn‘t only a personal thing to me. I could picture hundreds and hundreds of boys living on the wrong sides of cities, boys with black eyes who jumped at their own shadows. Hundreds of boys who maybe watched sunsets and looked at stars and ached for something better. I could see boys going down under street lights because they were mean and tough and hated the world, and it was too late to tell them that there was still good in it, and they wouldn‘t believe you if you did. It was too vast a problem to be just a personal thing. There should be some help, someone should tell them before it was too late. Someone should tell their side of the story, and maybe people would understand then and wouldn‘t be so quick to judge a boy by the amount of hair oil he wore. It was important to me. I picked up the phone book and called my English teacher.‖