Deadbeat:
The
Injuns gonna read it?
Homber: Sure they're gonna read it. The Injuns'll belong
to Perfection.
Perfection belongs to every critter. God loves every goddam hobo.
Deadbeat: Injun city, ugh?
Homber: Injun and hobo, hobo and Injun. Brudders under
the prairie sky.
Ain't that wonderful? |