“The death of God left the angels in a strange position.”

“The aim of literature ... is the creation of a strange object covered with fur which breaks your heart.”

“The aim of literature," Baskerville replied grandly, "is the creation of a strange object covered with fur which breaks your heart.”

“Mother, have you noticed that this society we’re in tends to be a little…repressive?” “What does that mean, Eugenie? What does that mean, that strange new word, ‘repressive,’ that I have never heard before?” “It means…it’s like when you decide to do something, and you get up out of your chair to do it, and you take a step, and then become aware of frosty glances being directed at you from every side.” “Frosty glances?” “Your desires are stifled.” “What desires are you talking about?” “Just desires in general. Any desires. It’s a whole…I guess atmosphere is the…word…a tendency on the part of the society…” “You’d better sew some more pillow cases, Eugenie.”

“But have you noticed the slight curl at the end of Sam II's mouth, when he looks at you? It means that he didn't want you to name him Sam II, for one thing, and for two other things it means that he has a sawed-off in his left pants leg, and a baling hook in his right pants leg, and is ready to kill you with either of them, given the opportunity. The father is taken aback. What he usually says, in such a confrontation, is "I changed your diapers for you, little snot." This is not the right thing to say. First, it is not true (mothers change nine diapers out of ten), and second it reminds Sam II of what he is mad about. He is mad about being small when you were big, but no, that's not it, he is mad about being helpless when you were powerful, but no, not that either, he is mad about being contingent when you were necessary, not quite it, he is insane because when he loved you, you didn't notice.”

“My mother was a royal virgin," Peterson said, "and my father a shower of gold. My childhood was pastoral and energetic and rich in experiences which developed my character. As a young man I was noble in reason, infinite in faculty, in form express and admirable, and in apprehension..." Peterson went on and on and although he was, in a sense, lying, in a sense he was not.”

“Machines are braver than art.”