“The stench that surrounded me suggested that the tarp over my face had been previously used either to transport fertiliser or as toilet paper.”

“I want to publish a book on toilet paper—not only about toilet paper, but actually print it on toilet paper. That way nobody will be surprised by how shitty my book is.”

“The New York Times Review of Books is toilet paper. Used.”

“I felt like I was ten again and had been caught using my uncle's Cuban cigars as miniature canoes in the toilet.”

“As with marathon runs and lengths of toilet paper, there had to be standards to measure up to.”

“I have to go to the toilet,” I tell Ma urgently after dinner.“You have to go in the woods.”“But where?”“Anywhere you can find. Wait, I’ll get you some toilet paper.” Ma goes away and comes back with a bunch of paper sheets in her hand. My eyes widen in disbelief, “Ma! It’s money. I can’t use money!”“Use it, it is of no use to us anymore.”