“Your clothes. Give them to me. Now.”

“Give me a number between one and twenty.”Unable to see where this was going, she shrugged. “Eleven.”“You lose. Now strip off your clothes.”

“Very funny, Scotty. Now beam me up my clothes.”

“Sleeping in your clothes makes you tired. The clothes are crumpled, and also your body underneath them. I feel as if I've been rolled into a bundle and thrown on the floor.”

“Strange, isn't it, that no chemical will give a human being the iridescence that illusions have given them? Give me your hat.”

“When someone steals another's clothes, we call them a thief. Should we not give the same name to one who could clothe the naked and does not? The bread in your cupboard belongs to the hungry; the coat unused in your closet belongs to the one who needs it; the shoes rotting in your closet belong to the one who has no shoes; the money which you hoard up belongs to the poor.”