“There were times when the fact of impending death seemed as palpable as the bed they lay on, and they would cling together with a sort of despairing sensuality, like a damned soul grasping at his last morsel of pleasure when the clock is within five minutes of striking. But there were also times when they had the illusion not only of safety but of permanence.”

“…when people are waiting, they are bad judges of time, and every half minute seems like five.”

“It seemed like five minutes later we were here, the Land That Time Forgot, watching the removal van disappear round the corner like a last hope.”

“But when at long last he had got his head out over the side of the bed, in mid-air, he became afraid of continuing in this manner, for if he were to fall like that it would take a miracle for him not to sustain a head injury. And consciousness was the last thing he wanted to lose at the present time; he would rather stay in bed.”

“What was the point of loving when the people you loved were taken from you? When Death and Time were always looming and poised to strike, why did love exist?”

“The Cat: When the wine drinks itself, when the skull speaks, when the clock strikes the right time, only then will you find the tunnel that leads to the Red Bull. There be a trick to it, of course.”