“He almost danced to the fridge, found the three least hairy things in it, put them on a plate and watched them intently for two minutes. Since they made no attempt to move within that time he called them breakfast and ate them. Between them they killed a virulent space disease he'd picked up without knowing it in the Flargathon Gas Swamps a few days earlier, which otherwise would have killed off half the population of the Western Hemisphere, blinded the other half, and driven everyone else psychotic and sterile, so the Earth was lucky there.”

“It couldn’t last. Everyone was just killing time. But if all they did was kill time, time would end up killing them.”

“When they came into their trench he felt small enough. The biggest thing there was the roaring of Death and the smallest thing was a man. Bombs not so far off distressed the earth of Belgium, disgorged great heaps of it, and did everything except kill him immediately, as he half expected them to do.”

“Ric stared up at the lion siblings. How Lock hadn’t killed them already, he didn’t know. If nothing else, Ric would have had them…managed by now. They’d be alive, but in Siberia.”

“I have found that there are two ways of dealing with men. Either you treat them with respect, or you kill them. Anything in between merely breeds resentment and the desire for revenge.”

“Did the poet know how lucky he was, to have such beautiful words and a place to put them and keep them?”