“She is fiercely protective of all those she loves, Emerson. She would take your part just as vigorously if someone were unkind to you.''D'you think so?' Emerson considered this idea.'I refuse to pick a quarrel with you so that Sennia can defend you. She'll get over it; just be polite to Gargery.''Damnation,' said Emerson”

“...DAMNATION!'No device of the printer's art, not even capital letters, can indicate the intensity of that shriek of rage. Emerson is known to his Egyptian workers by the admiring sobriquet of Father of Curses. The volume as well as the content of his remarks earned him the title; but this shout was extraordinary even by Emerson's standards, so much so that the cat Bastet, who had become more or less accustomed to him, started violently, and fell with a splash into the bathtub.The scene that followed is best not described in detail. My efforts to rescue the thrashing feline were met with hysterical resistance; water surged over the edge of the tub and onto the floor; Emerson rushed to the rescue; Bastet emerged in one mighty leap, like a whale broaching, and fled -- cursing, spitting, and streaming water. She and Emerson met in the doorway of the bathroom.The ensuing silence was broken by the quavering voice of the safragi, the servant on duty outside our room, inquiring if we required his assistance. Emerson, seated on the floor in a puddle of soapy water, took a long breath. Two of the buttons popped off his shirt and splashed into the water. In a voice of exquisite calm he reassured the servant, and then transferred his bulging stare to me.I trust you are not injured, Peabody. Those scratches...'The bleeding has almost stopped, Emerson. It was not Bastet's fault.'It was mine, I suppose,' Emerson said mildly.Now, my dear, I did not say that. Are you going to get up from the floor?'No,' said Emerson.He was still holding the newspaper. Slowly and deliberately he separated the soggy pages, searching for the item that had occasioned his outburst. In the silence I heard Bastet, who had retreated under the bed, carrying on a mumbling, profane monologue. (If you ask how I knew it was profane, I presume you have never owned a cat.)”

“You are softening toward the young rascal because he is ill, and because he says he likes cats.""It is an engaging quality, Emerson.""That depends," said Emerson darkly, "on how he likes them.”

“Instead, Emerson came to accept that when someone dies, things that belong to you disappear, too.”

“We argued most of the way home. I thought it would be nicest for Hal to take his two dollars in to Mother first, bu Muriel didn't think so. She always wanted to do things as if it were a play. "That wouldn't be any good," she said. "If Hal goes in first and gives her the money, she'll start crying right away. But if you give her yours first, she'll just say we were smart children to make so much money. And then I'll give her mine, and she'll say, 'Why, why... where in the world did you get so much money?' And then Phillip can give her his, and she'll look like she thought maybe we'd robbed a bank. And then when Hal gives her his, we'll all want to cry."It worked just the way she thought it would.”

“Thank you," Emerson said, bowing his head and accepting the box with the tender hands of a parent holding a child. "I am indebted-""Don't be.This doesn't mean I like you or your politics any better," Heath said gruffly.”