"What will it mean to you?"
"I don't know. I have to find it first."
"And then all of a sudden it's going to be some kind of an answer to everything?"
"Maybe."
"What fouled you up, Tal? What broke your wagon?"
"I don't know."
"I can place most people. I can't quite place you. You look like one type. You know. Played ball in school. Sells bonds or something. Working up to a ranch-type house, a Brooks wardrobe, and some day winter vacations in Bermuda after the kids are in college. You look like that all except the eyes. And the eyes don't look like that at all."
"What do they look like?"
"The eyes on the horse that knows they're going to shoot him because he was clumsy and busted his leg."
"When do we go after the money?"