“The handful of Germans who had reached the trench had been sacrificed for the stupid sort of fun called. Strategy, probably. Stupid! . . . It was, of course, just like German spools to go mining by candle-light. Obsoletely Nibenlungen-like. Dwarfs probably!”

“If it looks like a Dwarf, and it smells like a Dwarf, then it's probably a Dwarf or a latrine wearing dungerees.”

“...the Germans love frankness and honesty. It is so convenient to be frank and honest. This confidingness, this complacence, this showing the cards of German honesty, is probably the most dangerous and most successful disguise which the German is up to nowadays.”

“Morning, Peter,” she callsfrom the back, in her exaggerated German accent. Mawning, Pedder.She’s been in the States more than fifteen years now, but heraccent has gotten heavier. Uta is a member of what seems to be agrowing body of defiantly unassimilated expatriates. She on onehand disdains her country of origin (Darling, the word “lugubrious”comes to mind) but on the other seems to grow more German (morenot-American) with every passing year....Because Uta is German, utterly German, which of course is probably why she leftthere, and insists that she’ll never go back.”

“Why had I taken all those useless classes like bio and German when I should have been taking lipreading?”

“That was Thorin's style. He was an important dwarf. If he had been allowed, he would probably have gone on like this until he was out of breath, without telling anyone there anything that was not known already. But he was rudely interrupted.”