Charlie: Colonel... what's he truly made of? What's he mean?
Colonel Stonesteel: Boy, you were there. You helped. You saw.
Charlie: No. Tell me, Colonel.
Colonel Stonesteel: You want to know who he truly was, once upon a time? Well, he was everyone. He was no one. He was someone. He was you. He was me. Well, his body.. his body's made of crushed flowers.. New wedding and old funerals. Ticker tapes, unraveled, gone off forever Egyptian pharaoh midnight trains. Circus posters, torn off seed barns in Northstorm, Ohio, shuttered south to Fulfillment, Texas. All the things that were once need, hope, first nickel in a pocket. framed dollar on the cafe wall. Printed there by odd old men and time-orphaned widows, saying, "It'll happen tomorrow." "Tomorrow it'll happen!"