“I check the list. Rubber tubing, gas, saw, gloves, cuffs, razor wire, hatchet, Gladys, and my mitts.”

“The glove compartment of my car is empty, but one of these days, I’m going to fill it with an assortment of gloves—everything from boxing gloves to the oven mitts I used when I burned my last bridge.”

“The hatchet must fall on the block; the oak must be cleft to the centre. The weight of the world is on my shoulders. Here is the pen and the paper; on the letters in the wire basket I sign my name, I, I, and again I.”

“I wired my gas pedal to my stereo, so now when I crank up the volume the car accelerates.”

“There was a pumping noise which Isaac knew to mean that the toxins had been released. Someone checked the needles and the tubing which had been inserted into his wrists and Isaac saw the thin, clear tubes begin to carry poisonous liquid into his veins.”

“I collect sounds. I store most of them in my ears, but some, like the sneeze, I store in my nose. If you wear a rain slicker and some rubber gloves, I’ll show you my collection sometime.”