“We already have the Wooden Pillar, the Steel Pillar and the Plastic Pillar. In a moment we will have the Golden Bail....'No, you won't.'We will,' stated the robot simply.No, you won't. It makes my ship work.'In a moment,' repeated the robot patiently, 'we will have the Golden Bail....'You will not,' said Zaphod.And then we must go,' said the robot, in all seriousness, 'to a party.'Oh,' said Zaphod, startled, 'can I come?'No,' said the robot, 'we are going to shoot you.'Oh, yeah?' said Zaphod, waggling his gun.Yes,' said the robot, and they shot him.Zaphod was so surprised that they had to shoot him again before he fell down. (85-86)”

“You ARE Zaphod Beeblebrox?' 'Yeah,' said Zaphod, 'but don't shout it out or they'll all want one.' 'THE Zaphod Beeblebrox?' 'No, just A Zaphod Beeblebrox, didn't you hear I come in six packs?' 'But sir,' it squealed, 'I just heard on the sub-ether radio report. It said you were dead...' 'Yeah, that's right, I just haven't stopped moving yet.”

“Zaphod left the controls for Ford to figure out, and lurched over to Arthur."Look, Earthman," he said angrily, "you've got a job to do, right? The Question to the Ultimate Answer, right?""What, that thing?" said Arthur, "I thought we'd forgotten about that.""Not me, baby. Like the mice said, it's worth a lot of money in the right quarters. And it's all locked up in that head thing of yours.""Yes but ...""But nothing! Think about it. The Meaning of Life! We get our fingers on that we can hold every shrink in the Galaxy up to ransom, and that's worth a bundle. I owe mine a mint."Arthur took a deep breath without much enthusiasm."Alright," he said, "but where do we start? How should I know? They say the Ultimate Answer or whatever is Forty-two, how am I supposed to know what the question is? It could be anything. I mean, what's six times seven?"Zaphod looked at him hard for a moment. Then his eyes blazed with excitement."Forty-two!" he cried.Arthur wiped his palm across his forehead."Yes," he said patiently, "I know that."Zaphod's faces fell."I'm just saying that the question could be anything at all," said Arthur, "and I don't see how I am meant to know.”

“Hey, this is terrific!" he said. "Someone down there is trying to kill us!""Terrific," said Arthur."But don't you see what this means?""Yes. We are going to die.""Yes, but apart from that.""Apart from that?!""It means we must be on to something!""How soon can we get off it?”

“If I ever meet myself,' said Zaphod, 'I'll hit myself so hard I won't know what's hit me.”

“The Encyclopedia Galactica defines a robot as a mechanical apparatus designed to do the work of a man. The marketing division of the Sirius Cybernetics Corporation defines a robot as "Your Plastic Pal Who's Fun to Be With. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy defines the marketing devision of the Sirius Cybernetic Corporation as "a bunch of mindless jerks who'll be the first against the wall when the revolution comes,”

“Good evening," it lowed and sat back heavily on its haunches, "I am the main Dish of the Day. May I interest you in parts of my body? It harrumphed and gurgled a bit, wriggled its hind quarters into a more comfortable position and gazed peacefully at them.Its gaze was met by looks of startled bewilderment from Arthur and Trillian, a resigned shrug from Ford Prefect and naked hunger from Zaphod Beeblebrox."Something off the shoulder perhaps?" suggested the animal. "Braised in a white wine sauce?""Er, your shoulder?" said Arthur in a horrified whisper."But naturally my shoulder, sir," mooed the animal contentedly, "nobody else's is mine to offer."Zaphod leapt to his feet and started prodding and feeling the animal's shoulder appreciatively."Or the rump is very good," murmured the animal. "I've been exercising it and eating plenty of grain, so there's a lot of good meat there." It gave a mellow grunt, gurgled again and started to chew the cud. It swallowed the cud again."Or a casserole of me perhaps?" it added."You mean this animal actually wants us to eat it?" whispered Trillian to Ford."Me?" said Ford, with a glazed look in his eyes. "I don't mean anything.""That's absolutely horrible," exclaimed Arthur, "the most revolting thing I've ever heard.""What's the problem, Earthman?" said Zaphod, now transferring his attention to the animal's enormous rump."I just don't want to eat an animal that's standing there inviting me to," said Arthur. "It's heartless.""Better than eating an animal that doesn't want to be eaten," said Zaphod."That's not the point," Arthur protested. Then he thought about it for a moment. "All right," he said, "maybe it is the point. I don't care, I'm not going to think about it now. I'll just ... er ..."The Universe raged about him in its death throes."I think I'll just have a green salad," he muttered."May I urge you to consider my liver?" asked the animal, "it must be very rich and tender by now, I've been force-feeding myself for months.""A green salad," said Arthur emphatically."A green salad?" said the animal, rolling his eyes disapprovingly at Arthur."Are you going to tell me," said Arthur, "that I shouldn't have green salad?""Well," said the animal, "I know many vegetables that are very clear on that point. Which is why it was eventually decided to cut through the whole tangled problem and breed an animal that actually wanted to be eaten and was capable of saying so clearly and distinctly. And here I am."It managed a very slight bow."Glass of water please," said Arthur."Look," said Zaphod, "we want to eat, we don't want to make a meal of the issues. Four rare steaks please, and hurry. We haven't eaten in five hundred and seventy-six thousand million years."The animal staggered to its feet. It gave a mellow gurgle."A very wise choice, sir, if I may say so. Very good," it said. "I'll just nip off and shoot myself."He turned and gave a friendly wink to Arthur."Don't worry, sir," he said, "I'll be very humane."It waddled unhurriedly off to the kitchen.A matter of minutes later the waiter arrived with four huge steaming steaks.”