“Ignatius, what's all this trash on the floor?""That is my worldview that you see. It still must be incorporated into a whole, so be careful where you step.”

“...    'How old is he?' the policeman asked Mrs. Reilly.    'I am thirty,' Ignatius said condescendingly.    'You got a job?'    'Ignatius hasta help me at home,' Mrs. Reilly said. Her initial courage was failing a little, and she began to twist the lute string with the cord on the cake boxes. 'I got terrible arthuritis.'    'I dust a bit,' Ignatius told the policeman. 'In addition, I am at the moment writing a lengthy indictment against our century. When my brain begins to reel from my literary labors, I make an occasional cheese dip.'...”

“It's not your fate to be well treated," Ignatius cried. "You're an overt masochist. Nice treatment will confuse and destroy you.”

“I bet you cook good, huh?" Darlene asked."Mother doesn't cook," Ignatius said dogmatically."She burns.”

“Ignatius, all at once you're your horrible old self. All at once I think I'm making a very big mistake.”

“Go dangle your withered parts over the toilet!' Ignatius screamed savagely.”

“Canned food is a perversion,' Ignatius said. 'I suspect that it is ultimately very damaging to the soul.”