The Outsiders
by S.E. Hinton
(Penguin, 2006)
Why do adolescents get such a bad rap, considering that all adults were once adolescents themselves? Because … we spend most of our adult lives actively attempting to forget what it felt like to be a teenager. … which creates a chasm between the kids who think adults can’t possibly understand them and the adults who don’t want to try, for fear of reliving their past.
Page vii.
Teenagers in the 1950s and ‘60s were the product of adult reimagination - wishful thinking.
Page viii.
With the appearance of The Outsiders, S.E. Hinton revolutionized the game of young adult fiction, by giving voice to a generation that had not been allowed to speak for itself.
Page viii.
Instead of the images of teens that had been filtered through adult perception for years, this story was gritty, emotional, and very authentic to the adolescents who devoured it.
Page ix.
Fourteen-year-old Ponyboy is a complex combination of a bad boy with a good heart.
Page ix.
Hinton plays off readers’ preconceived notions of what an outlaw is, defying our attempts to pigeonhole Ponyboy at every turn, so that even if we are unfamiliar with life on the so-called wrong side of the tracks, thanks to Ponyboy’s thoughtful and detailed narrative, we an relate to his effort to follow his moral compass.
Page ix.
He has come to understand that it’s not the label that makes a man, but rather the man who makes the label.
Page xi.
Through Ponyboy, we get an inside view of a teenager struggling to figure out who he is within the confines se by society, by his friends, by his peers, and by his family.
Page xi.
This … is the irony of te adolescent condition: once you are aware that the world is bigger than you are, it’s that much more difficult to transform.
Page xii.
The division between popular and unpopular still exists; all that’s changed are the labels and the salient characteristics.
Page xiii.
There’s a stereotype of the “other,” but neither group goes out of its way to see if it’s true. And because it’s social suicide to not fit in at all, the mad scramble to be part of a group - any group - is key.
Page xiii.
The Outsiders’ timelessness owes itself to the fact that as long as there are teenagers, there will be cliques.
Page xiv.
Teenagers may be more inclined to break through stereotypes than adults, who’ve simply learned to live with them. Perhaps instead of expecting teens to just “grow up already,” adults should be more willing to “grow down” - recalling what it felt like, as a teenager, to believe you could change the world.
Page xv.
When I see a movie with someone it’s kind of uncomfortable, like having someone read your book over your shoulder.
Page 3.
Nobody in our gang digs movies and books the way I do.
Page 3.
We get jumped by the Socs. I’m not sure how you spell it, but it’s the abbreviation or the Socials, the jet set, the east-side rich kids. It’s like the term “greaser,” which is used to class all us boys on the East Side.
Page 4.
Greasers are almost like hoods; we steal tings and drive old souped-up cars and hold up gas stations and have a gang fight once in a while.
Page 4.
I’m supposed to be smart: I make good grades and have a high IQ and everything, but I don’t use my head.
Page 5.
In our neighborhood it’s rare to find a kid who doesn’t drink once in a while.
Page 8.
Soda attracted girls like honey draws flies.
Page 9.
Here, organized gangs are rarities - there are just small bunches of friends who stick together, and the warfare is between the social classes.
Page 10.
If it hadn’t been for the gang, Johnny would never have known what love and affection are.
Page 11.
Tough and tuff are two different words. Tough is the same as rough; tuff means cool, sharp - like a tuff-looking Mustang or a tuff record. In our neighborhood both are compliments.
Page 11.
Darry is always pulling muscles; he roofs houses and he’s always trying to carry two bundles of roofing up the ladder.
Page 14.
Darry didn’t deserve to work like an old man when he was only twenty. He had been a real popular guy in school; he was captain of the football team and he had been voted Boy of the Year. But we just didn’t have the money for him to go to college, even with the athletic scholarship he won.
Page 14.
I lie to myself all the time. But I never believe me.
Page 16.
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.
Page 18.
I’m half-scared of all nice girls, especially Socs.
Page 19.
“Droupout” made me think of some poor dumb-looking hoodlum wandering the streets breaking out street lights - it didn’t fit my happy-go-lucky brother at all.
Page 20.
You take up for your buddies, no matter what they do. When you’re a gang, you stick up for the members. If you don’t stick up for them, stick together, make like brothers, it isn’t a gang any more. It’s a pack. A snarling, distrustful, bickering pack like the Socs in their social clubs or the street gangs in New York or the wolves in the timber.
Page 22.
We try to be nice to the girls we see once in a while, like cousins or the girls in class; but we still watch a nice girl go by on a street corner and say all kinds of lousy stuff about her. Don’t ask me why. I don’t know why.
Page 23.
We don’t mind being called greaser by another greaser. It’s kind of playful then.
Page 24.
Skin fighting isn’t rough. It blows off steam better than anything. There’s nothing wrong with throwing a few punches. Socs are rough. They gang up on one or two, or they rumble each other with their social clubs. Us greasers usually stick together, but when we do fight among ourselves, it’s a fair fight between two.
Pages 24-25.
Our one rule, besides Stick together, is Don’t get caught.
Page 25.
“I’ll bet you think the Socs have it made. The rich kids, the West-side Socs. I’ll tell you something, Ponyboy, and it may come as a surprise. We have troubles you’ve never even heard of.
Page 28.
It seemed funny to me that Socs - if these girls were any example - were just like us.
Page 30.
You greasers have a different set of values. You’re more emotional. We’re sophisticated - cool to the point of not feeling anything. Nothing is real with us.
Page 30.
“Did you ever hear of having more than you wanted? So that you couldn’t want anything else and then started looking for something else to want?”
Page 31.
“It’s not money, it’s feeling - you don’t feel anything and we feel too violently.”
Page 31.
When you’re thirteen in our neighborhood you know the score.
Page 32.
It seemed funny to me that the unset she saw from her patio and the one I saw from the back steps was the same one. Maybe the two different worlds we lived in weren’t so different. We saw the same sunset.
Page 32.
“We can look meaner than anything when we want to - looking tough comes in handy.”
Page 36.
“We aren’t in the same class. Just don’t forget that some of us watch the sunset too.”
Page 36.
It wasn’t fair for the Socs to have everything. We were as good as they were; it wasn’t our faut we were greasers.
Page 37.
I felt the tension growing inside of me and I knew something had to happen or I would explode.
Pages 37-38.
“I think I like it better when the old man’s hitttin’ me,” Johnny sighed. “At least then I know he knows who I am.”
Page 40.
I couldn’t hold my breath any longer. I fought again desperately but only sucked in water. I’m drowning, I thought, they’ve gone too far … A red hazer filled my mind and I slowly relaxed.
Page 44.
Bob, the handsome Soc, was lying there in the moonlight, doubled up and still. A dark pool was growing f rom him, spreading slowly over the blue-white cement. I looked at Johnny’s hand. He was clutching his switchblade, and it was dark to the hilt.
Page 44.
It would be a miracle if Dally loved anything. The fight for self-preservation had hardened him beyond caring.
Page 46.
Not even the rattling of the train could keep me awake, and I went to sleep in a hoodlum’s jacket, with a gun lying next to my hand.
Page 49.
When you haven’t got anything to do, you remember things in spite of yourself.
Page 54.
Our hair labeled us greasers, too - it was our trademark. The one thing we were proud of. Maybe we couldn’t have Corvairs or madras shirts, but we could have hair.
Page 55.
Of all of us, Dally was the one I liked least. He didn’t have Soda’s understanding or dash, or Two-Bit’s humor, or even Darry’s superman qualities. But I realized that these three appealed to me because they were like the heroes in the novels I read. Dally was real. I liked my books and clouds and sunsets. Dally was so real he scared me.
Page 59.
"Nothing gold can stay.” I was remembering a poem I’d read once.
Page 60.
I was dying for a Pepsi. I’m what you might call a Pepsi addict. I drink them like a fiend, and going for the five days without one was about to kill me.
Page 61.I co
uldn’t tell Dally that I hated to shoot things. He’d think I was soft.
Page 67.
I don’t know what it was about Johnny - maybe that lost-puppy look and those big scared eyes were what made everyone his big brother.
Page 68.
Johnny was a good fighter and could play it cool, but he was sensitive and that isn’t a good way to be when you’re a greaser.
Page 68.
We rarely fought among ourselves - Darry was the unofficial leader, since he kept his head best, Soda and Steve had been best friends since grade school and never fought, and Two-bit was just too lazy to argue with anyone. Johnny kept his mouth shut too much to get into arguments, and nobody ever fought with Johnny. I kept my mouth shut, too. But Daly was a different matter. If something beefed him, he didn’t keep quiet about it, and if you rubbed him the wrong way - look out. Not even Darry wanted to tangle with him. He was dangerous.
Page 69.
Dally didn’t give a Yankee dime about anyone but himself, and he was cold and hard and mean. He never talked about his past or being in jail.
Page 69.
Except for Darry, who was too proud of his athletic health to risk a cigarette, we had all started smoking at an early age. Johnny had been smoking since he was nine; Steve started at eleven. So no one thought it unusual when I started. I was the weed-fiend in my family - Soda smokes only to steady his nerves or when he wants to look tough.
Page 75.
I had taken the long way around, but I was finally home. To stay.
Page 76.
The first one up has to fix breakfast and the other two do the dishes. That’s the rule around our house.
Page 80.
All three of us are crazy about chocolate stuff. Soda says if they ever make a chocolate cigarette I’ll have it made.
Page 80.
Most grownups don’t know about the battles that do on between us.
Page 82.
Darry has never really gotten over not going to college.
Pages 82-83.
“You can’t win, you know that, don’t you?” and when I remained silent he went on: “You can’t win, even if you whip us. You’ll still be where you were before - at the bottom. And we’ll still be the lucky ones with all the breaks. So it doesn’t do any good, the fighting and the killing. It doesn’t prove a thing. We’ll forget it if you win, or if you don’t. Greasers will still be greasers and Socs will still be Socs.”
Page 89.
“You get a little money and the whole world hates you.”
“No,” I said, “you hate the whole world.”
Page 90.
Socs were just guys after all. Things were rough all over, but it was better that way. That way you could tell the other guy was human too.
Page 90.
Most greasers don’t have real tuff builds or anything. They’re mostly lean and kind of panther-looking in a slouchy way. This is partly because they don’t eat much and partly because they’re slouchy.
Page 106.
Our gang neve went in for weapons. We’re just not that rough. The only weapons we ever used were knives, and shoot, we carried them mostly just for looks.
Page 107.
We look hoody and they look decent. It could be just the other way around - half of the hoods I know are pretty decent guys underneath all that grease, and from what I’ve heard, a lot of the Socs are just cold-blooded mean - but people usually go by looks.
Page 107.
“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 …”
Page 112.
“Stay gold, Ponyboy. Stay gold …” The pillow seemed to sink a little, and Johnny died.
You read about people looking peacefully asleep when they’re dead, but they don’t. Johnny just looked dead. Like a candle with the flame gone. I tried to say something, but I couldn’t make a sound.
Page 113.
“Dallas is gone,” I said. “He ran out like the devil was after him. He’s gonna blow up. He couldn’t take it.
“How can I take it?” I wondered. Dally is tougher than I am. Why an I take it when Dally can’t? And then I knew. Johnny was the only thing Dally loved. And now Johnny was gone.
“So he finally broke.” Two-Bit spoke everyone’s feelings.
“So even Dally has a breaking point.”
Page 115.
My stomach gave a violent start and turned into a hunk of ice. The world was spinning around me, and blobs of faces and visions of things past were dancing in the red mist that covered the lot. It swirled into a mass of colors and I felt myself swaying on my feet. Someone cried, “Glory, lii at the kid!”
And the ground rushed up to met me very suddenly.
Page 117.
I’d rather have anybody’s hate than their pity.
Page 123.
It used to be that I’d just stand there and let Darry yell at me. But lately I’d been yelling right back.
Page 131.
“Darry yells too much and tries too hard and takes everything too serious, and Ponyboy, you don’t think enough, you don’t realize all Darry’s giving up just to give you a chance he missed out on. He could have stuck you in a home somewhere and worked his way through college.”
Page 133.
We ought to be able to stick together against everything. If we don’t have each other, we don’t’ have anything. If you don’t have anything, you end up like Dallas.
Page 133.
You know a guy a long time, and I mean really know him, you don’t get used to the idea that he’s dead just overnight.
Page 135.
Ponyboy, I asked the nurse to give you this book so you could finish it. The doctor came in a while ago but I knew anyway. I keep getting tireder and tireder. Listen, I don’t mind dying now. It’s worth it. It’s worth saving those kids. Their lives are worth more than mine, they have more to live for. Some of their parents came by to thank me and I know it was worth it. Tell Dally it’s worth it. I’m just going to miss you guys. I’ve been thinking about it, and that poem, that guy that wrote it, he meant you’re gold when you’re a kid, like green. When you’re a kid everything’s new, dawn. It’s just when you get used to everything that it’s day. Like the way you dig sunsets, Pony. That’s gold. Keep that way, it’s a good way to be. I want you to tell Dally to look at one. He’ll probably think you’re crazy, but ask for me. 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.
Page 135.