“I don't know," I said. "Whether or not he can write his own name seems to have very little impact on his ability to be an ass.”

“As we walk, he begins telling me all the names of the plants we pass. I already know their names, but I don't tell him that. He seems to think that scientists always want to know the names of things, and so I guess he thinks he's being helpful.Anyway, I like listening to his voice. It's deep and a little hoarse, as if he's been yelling all day, and his accent makes every word sound new and exciting, as if he's speaking another language I don't have to strain to understand."Here is annatto,for repelling insects and curing snakebites. The girls say it makes a love potion, but I don't believe them. They have all tried it on me, and I don't love any of them.”

“I remember that look," she said. "It's the one you once gave Carlos right before you threatened to kick his ass.""I can still kick ass," he said with absolute steel. "I just wanted you to know that.”

“Hey, er ..." said Zaphod, "what's your name?"The man looked at them doubtfully."I don't know. Why, do you think I should have one? It seems very odd togive a bundle of vague sensory perceptions a name.”

“Poor slob without a name. It's a little inconvenient, his not having a name. But I haven't the right to give him one: he'll have to wait until he belongs to somebody. We just sort of took up by the river one day, we don't belong to each other: he's an independent, and so am I. I don't want to own anything until I know I've found the place where me and things belong together.”

“I didn't even know his name. And if I didn't know his name then there is nothing I did know and I have known nothing ever at all since the one thing I wanted was to know his name so how could he help but leave me since he was making love to a woman who didn't even know his name.”