“There are degrees of seriousness," replied Syme. "I have never doubted that you were perfectly sincere in this sense, that you thought what you said well worth saying, that you thought a paradox might wake men up to a neglected truth.”

“We must have several word-signs," said Syme seriously -- "words that we are likely to want, fine shades of meaning. My favourite word is 'coeval.' What's yours?""Do stop playing the goat," said the Professor plaintively. "You don't know how serious this is.""'Lush,' too, " said Syme, shaking his head sagaciously, "we must have ' lush' -- word applied to grass, don't you know?""Do you imagine," asked the Professor furiously, "that we are going to talk to Dr. Bull about grass?""There are several ways in which the subject could be approached," said Syme reflectively, "and the word introduced without appearing forced. We might say, ' Dr. Bull, as a revolutionist, you remember that a tyrant once advised us to eat grass; and indeed many of us, looking on the fresh lush grass of summer--"'"Do you understand," said the other, "that this is a tragedy?""Perfectly," replied Syme; "always be comic in a tragedy. What the deuce else can you do? I wish this language of yours had a wider scope. I suppose we could not extend it from the fingers to the toes? That would involve pulling off our boots and socks during the conversation, which however unobtrusively performed -- ""Syme," said his friend with a stern simplicity, "go to bed!”

“The poet will be discontented even in the streets of heaven. The poet is always in revolt." "There again," said Syme irritably, "what is there poetical about being in revolt? You might as well say that it is poetical to be sea-sick.”

“You don't expect me," he said, "to revolutionize society on this lawn?"Syme looked straight into his eyes and smiled sweetly."No, I don't," he said; "but I suppose that if you were serious about your anarchism, that is exactly what you would do.”

“Really," said Gregory superciliously, "the examples you choose–""I beg your pardon," said Syme grimly, "I thought we had abolished all conventions.”

“Sunday is a fixed star," he said."You shall see him a falling star," said Syme, and put on his hat.The decision of his gesture drew the Professor vaguely to his feet."Have you any idea," he asked, with a sort of benevolent bewilderment, "exactly where you are going?""Yes," replied Syme shortly, "I am going to prevent this bomb being thrown in Paris.""Have you any conception how?" inquired the other."No," said Syme with equal decision.”

“Well, if I am not drunk, I am mad," replied Syme with perfect calm; "but I trust I can behave like a gentleman in either condition.”