“I cannot betray you, but I might betray myself. Come, come! wait and see me betray myself. I shall do it so nicely.”

“I earnestly hope that all children will spoil this book by painting the illustrations. I wanted to do this myself but the publishers would not let me. But let the colours you lay on be violent, gorgeous, terrific colours, because my feelings are like that.”

“Listen to me," cried Syme with extraordinary emphasis. "Shall I tell you the secret of the whole world? It is that we have only known the back of the world. We see everything from behind, and it looks brutal. That is not a tree, but the back of a tree. That is not a cloud, but the back of a cloud. Cannot you see that everything is stooping and hiding a face? If we could only get round in front -”

“Shall I tell you the secret of the whole world? It is that we have only known the back of the world. We see everything from behind, and it looks brutal. That is not a tree, but the back of a tree. That is not a cloud, but the back of a cloud. Cannot you see that everything is stooping and hiding a face? If we could only get round in front--”

“I cannot count the pebbles in the brook.Well hath He spoken: "Swear not by thy head.Thou knowest not the hairs," though He, we read,writes that wild number in His own strange book.I cannot count the sands or search the seas,death cometh, and I leave so much untrod.Grant my immortal aureole, O my God,and I will name the leaves upon the trees,In heaven I shall stand on gold and glass,still brooding earth's arithmetic to spell;or see the fading of the fires of hellere I have thanked my God for all the grass.”

“Who are you?' he asked suddenly.I'm not sure,' replied the other. 'I rather think I am your long-lost brother.'But I haven't got a brother,' objected Tommy.It only shows how very long-lost I was,' replied his remarkable relative. 'But I assure you that, before they managed to long-loose me, I used to live in this house myself.”

“I shall approach. Before taking off his hat, I shall take off my own. I shall say, "The Marquis de Saint Eustache, I believe." He will say, "The celebrated Mr. Syme, I presume." He will say in the most exquisite French, "How are you?" I shall reply in the most exquisite Cockney, "Oh, just the Syme."''Oh shut it...what are you really going to do?''But it was a lovely catechism! ...Do let me read it to you. It has only forty-three questions and answers, some of the Marquis's answers are wonderfully witty. I like to be just to my enemy.''But what's the good of it all?' asked Dr. Bull in exasperation.'It leads up to the challenge...when the Marquis as given the forty-ninth reply, which runs--''Has it...occurred to you...that the Marquis may not say all the forty-three things you have put down for him?''How true that is! ...Sir, you have a intellect beyond the common.”