“What the devil is Chocho?' Will whispered.
Horace's grin broadened. 'You are. It's what the men call you,' he said. Then he added, 'It's a term of great respect.'
Behind them, Halt nodded confirmation. 'Great respect,' he agreed.”

“All we could get out of them was that they were taking us to 'Kurokuma'. We didn't know if that was a place or a person. What does it mean, by the way?'
'I'm told it's a term of great respect,' Horace said, unwilling to admit that he didn't know.”

“He was always before men’s eyes; a course of action which, by increasing our familiarity with great men, diminishes our respect for them.”

“Sit down, Will. There’s a good fellow,” he said.
“Yes, sir,” replied Will, and Halt’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“He’s never called me sir,” he said.
“Probably trying to get on my good side,” Crowley replied.
Halt nodded savagely. “Probably.”

“Who are you, gaijin? What do you know about honor?'
'I'm called Chocho,' Will said…
'Chocho?' Arisaka shouted, goaded beyond control. 'Butterfly? Then die, Butterfly!”

“Yes, I'm back," he said, "And look who I ran into."
Horace grinned at him. "i hope you ran into him hard."
"As hard as I could.”

“She glanced at him. “What gods do you respect?”
“None.”
“And why not?”
“I help myself,” he said.”

“Ow!" said Horace as the Ranger's fingers probed and poked around the bruise.
Did that hurt?" Halt asked, and Horace looked at him with exasperation.
Of course it did," he said sharply. "That's why I said 'ow!”

“You have understood what all great painters understand: in order to forget the rules, you must know them and respect them.”

“What… what are you doing?"
"I won't know," he said with a grin. He took a step towards me. "But I'm pretty sure you were doing it too.”