“A shame that these images had become iconic, a tune we were all tired of humming.”

“Some believe that as an icon the image of Oscar Wilde is too old and notorious--all right, not an icon, let him be our oriflamme.”

“If I'm a tuning fork, you're the perfect A, making me hum.”

“I know this one pusher walks around humming a tune and everybody he passes takes it up. He is so grey and spectral and anonymous they don't see him and think it is their own mind humming the tune.”

“Even when we turn around, there are no footprints behind us...Nor the road we came along, nor the tune we hummed...When we die,No-one will know it's happened”

“She wondered: How could people respond to these images if images didn't secretly enjoy the same status as real things? Not that images were so powerful, but that the world was so weak. It could be read, certainly, in its weakness, as on days when the sun baked fallen apples in orchards and the valley smelled like cider, and cold nights when Jordan had driven Chadds Ford for dinner and the tires of her Chevrolet had crunched on the gravel driveway; but the world was fungible only as images. Nothing got inside the head without becoming pictures.”