“Shoving the ends at him, I headed for the common. It wasn't far away: a green, tree-lined oasis, brightened with many seasonal varieties of Coca-Can discardus, Crisp-packetus-cheese-and-onionus, and the occasional, fragrant dog turd underfoot.”
“Believe me, Athelstan, you can wrap a dog's turd in a cloth of gold but it remains a dog's turd.”
“How can you govern a country which has 246 varieties of cheese?”
“How can you govern a country with two hundred thirty-eight varieties of cheese?”
“i believe in anything it would be nature - trees, clouds, rain - the life cycles that begin and end, season after season. that makes sense to me - nature as God. ”
“Able closed his eyes. He was running. The grass was green with spring and fragrant, knee-high and cushioning his steps. And there was sun and a warm wind blew. Men called to him from the trees just atop the rise. He ran. He ran to them.”