“I remember, in no particular order: - a shiny inner wrist; - steam rising from a wet sink as a hot frying pan is laughingly tossed into it; - gouts of sperm circling a plughole, before being sluiced down the full length of a tall house; - a river rushing nonsensically upstream, its wave and wash lit by half a dozen chasing torchbeams; - another river, broad and grey, the direction of its flow disguised by a stiff wind exciting the surface; - bathwater long gone cold behind a locked door. This last isn't something I actually saw, but what you end up remembering isn't always the same as what you have witnessed.”

“What you end up remembering isn't always the same as what you have witnessed.”

“This [...] isn`t something I actually saw, but what you end up remembering isn`t always the same as what you witnessed.”

“You will learn it,' said Vasudeva, 'but not from me. The river has taught me to listen; you will learn from it too. The river knows everything; one can learn everything from it. You have already learned from the river that it is good to strive downwards, to sink, to seek the depths.'...Was it not a comedy, a strange and stupid thing, this repetition, this course of events in a fateful circle?...The river laughed. Yes, that was how it was. Everything that was not suffered to the end and finally concluded, recurred, and the same sorrows were undergone.”

“Fine!" muttered Mogget. "Wet, cold, and full of holes. Another fun day on the river.”

“Happiness isn't something you experience, it's something you remember.”