“Its a bit mad. Too bad, I mean, that getting to know each just for a fleeting second Must be replaced by unperfect knowledge of the featureless wholeLike some pocket history of the world, so generalAs to constitute a sob or wail”

“Does that mean", I said in some bewilderment, "that we must eat again of the tree of knowledge in order to return to the state of innocence?""Of course", he said, "but that's the final chapter in the history of the world.”

“A horse must be a bit mad to be a good cavalry mount, and its rider must be completely so.”

“Just for a fleeting split second his mind let go of its desperate chant: Nobody can hear me here, and replaced it with a glorious, admirable, proud: Morituri te salutant.”

“I know, I know," Moore said. "Mad beliefs like that, eh? Must be some metaphor, right? Must mean something else?" Shook his head. "What an awfully arrogant thing. What if faiths are exactly what they are? And mean exactly what they say?" "Stop trying to make sense of it and just listen," Dane said."And what," Moore said, "if a large part of the reason they're so tenacious is that they're perfectly accurate?”

“I mean, we all know the dangers of starving, but bulimia? That can't be that bad. It's only bad when you get really thin. Who worries about bulimics? They're just gross.”