“Don't you worry about that, Mr. Adamsson. Why don't you head back to Reykjavik and spend some of that extortionate fee you charged me for a couple of hours' usage of your frankly third-rate restaurant and perhaps find a friendless tree stump to listen to your woes?”

“Don't try to understand me, just be grateful that you felt the warmth of Zaphod Beeblebrox's aura on your wonderstruck face.”

“Don't worry chief,"said foaly,"It's like riding a unicorn,you never forget.”

“Stay back, human. You don't know what you're dealing with.”

“Hey, if you can't remember, don't worry about it. I'm having a few memory problems myself in this place. Little things like how long I've been here, what my purpose in life is, which feet to put my shoes on. Stuff like that.”

“You don't understand!' Foaly objected.Trouble cut him off with a chop of his hand through the air. 'I never understand. That's why we pay you and your dork posse."Foaly objected again. 'They are not dorks!'Trouble found space for yet another holster. 'Really? That guy brings a Beanie Baby to work every day. And your nephew, Mayne, speaks fluent Unicorn.''They're not all dorks,' said Foaly, correcting himself.”

“Card five hundred and thirty-four," repeated Artemis. "Of a series of six hundred standard inkblot cards. I memorized them during our sessions. You don't even shuffle."Argon checked the number on the back of the card: 534. Of course. "Knowing the number doesn't answer the question. What do you see?"Artemis allowed his lip to wobble. "I see an ax dripping with blood. Also a scared child, and an elf clothed in the skin of a troll.""Really?" Argon was interested now. "No. Not really. I see a secure building, perhaps a family home, with four windows. A trustworthy pet, and a pathway leading from the door into the distance. I think, if you check your manual, you will find that these answers fall inside healthy parameters."Argon did not need to check. The Mud Boy was right, as usual.”