“He lay face down, listening to the silence. He was perfectly alone. Nobody was watching. Nobody else was there. He was not perfectly sure that he was there himself. ”

“No one can say he is himself, until first he knows that he is, and then what himself is. In fact, nobody is himself, and himself is nobody.”

“He could not feel her near him in the darkness nor hear her voice touch his ear. He waited for some minutes listening. He could hear nothing: the night was perfectly silent. He listened again: perfectly silent. He felt that he was alone.”

“She was so beautiful tonight he knew he would die of it. He hated that anyone else should see it. He wished it were something he alone could see. And he knew he was alone, that nobody saw it but him. And he knew that everyone could see it. And still no one could but him.”

“I am Nobody, nobody is perfect, therefore I am perfect.”

“Ohhh, OH no you didn't!" he screams. "Nobody touches the TERRY!" Then he starts punching himself in he face. This kid really is crazy! I may not even have to fight him. He's doing it for me, and I'm winning!”