“I don't think," he said, "that a vicar is supposed to beat a bishop to death, or even back to death."Mr. Berkeley looked down upon the remains of Bishop Bernard."If anyone asks, we'll say he fell over," he said. "Lots of times.”

“It's beautiful," said Mort softly. "What is it?"THE SUN IS UNDER THE DISC, said Death."Is it like this every night?"EVERY NIGHT, said Death. NATURE'S LIKE THAT."Doesn't anyone know?"ME. YOU. THE GODS. GOOD, ISN'T IT?"Gosh!"Death leaned over the saddle and looked down at the kingdoms of the world.I DON'T KNOW ABOUT YOU, he said, BUT I COULD MURDER A CURRY.”

“Shall a man have nothing of his own; -- no sorrow in his heart, no care in his family, no thought in his breast so private and special to him, but that, if he happen to be a clergyman, the bishop may touch it with his thumb?' I am not the bishop's thumb,' said Mr. Thumble”

“Look at the successful men in any of the learned professions. How perfectly hideous they are! Except, of course, in the Church. But then in the Church they don't think. A bishop keeps on saying at the age of eighty what he was told to say when he was a boy of eighteen, and as a natural consequence he always looks absolutely delightful.”

“Mr. Bloemker moved closer. He smelled like a wet diaper. “What is it,” he asked, looking over Lenore’s shoulder.“If it’s what I think it is,” said Lenore, “it’s a sort of joke. A what do you call it. An antinomy.”“An antinomy?”Lenore nodded. “Gramma really likes antinomies. I think this guy here,” looking down at the drawing on the back of the label, “is the barber who shaves all and only those who do not shave themselves.”Mr. Bloemker looked at her. “A barber?”“The big killer question,” Lenore said to the sheet of paper, “is supposed to be whether the barber shaves himself. I think that’s why his head’s exploded, here.”“Beg pardon?”“If he does, he doesn’t, and if he doesn’t, he does.”

“I went to the lobby and asked Stan what he knew about the person who lived in 6A. He said 'Never seen anyone go in or come out. Just a lot of deliveries and a lot of trash.''Cool'. He leaned down and whispered 'Haunted'.I whispered back 'I don't believe in the paranormal'.He said 'Ghosts don't care if you believe in them'.I walked back up the steps, this time past our floor and to the sixth. There was a mat in front of the door which said 'welcome' in twelve different languages. That didn't seem like something a ghost would put in front of his apartment."― Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close”