“Oh, yes; the game was to just find something about everything to be glad about—no matter what 'twas”

“... there is something about everything that you can be glad about, if you keep hunting long enough to find it.”

“Yes?’ he asked, looking at me over the sheet.‘I’m a writer temporarily down on my inspirations.’‘Oh, a writer, eh?’‘Yes.’‘Are you sure?’‘No, I’m not.’‘What do you write?’‘Short stories mostly. And I’m halfway through a novel.’‘A novel, eh?’‘Yes.’‘What’s the name of it?’‘”The Leaky Faucet of My Doom.”‘‘Oh, I like that. What’s it about?’‘Everything.’‘Everything? You mean, for instance, it’s about cancer?’‘Yes.’‘How about my wife?’‘She’s in there too.”

“...Isn't it splendid to think of all the things there are to find out about? It just makes me feel glad to be alive--it's such an interesting world. It wouldn't be half so interesting if we knew all about everything, would it? There'd be no scope for imagination then, would there?”

“Yes, it’s true that you can’t learn everything from books. But you do learn something about everything.”

“Silks" ... "China" ... "Men's Suits" ... but what about canes? ... or crutches? "Oh, certainly ... yes, yes, of course ... third floor ...”